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collective-remnants-rwby · 2 years

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RWBY AU: The Tarrasque

The Tarrasque is the designation given to a Titan-class Creature of Grimm of unknown but supposedly remarkable intelligence that first made landfall off the coast of Vytal eleven years ago. In the resultant decade it has reappeared thrice, with two of those occasions being cataclysmic attacks resulting in heavy casualties of both civilian populations and responding military and Hunters, each event only ending with the arrival of Ruby Rose on the field of battle.

It is widely recognized as being the single greatest threat to Remnant since Salem met her end over twenty years ago. An accurate assessment, to be sure.

Appearance

Due to its highly variable morphology, The Tarrasque’s appearance varies which each attack, so much so that until the third attack it was thought that the Tarrasque was multiple individuals belonging to a single, highly morphologically variable strain of Grimm.

It’s only constant feature is a narrow, wide mawed head covered in a sloped bone carapace with the mark of Salem displayed on the front, and a signle, giant, burning eye. But despite this, the Tarrasque’s forms seem to mostly favour a lithe body capable of both bipedal and quadrupedal movement, and a long tail as a counterbalance and additional weapon.

Abilities

The Tarrasque, as appropriate for a Titan Grimm, possesses truly monstrous strength and durability, capable of shrugging off warship grade weapons, static defenses and is even capable of withstanding a full assault from a Seasonal Maiden or beings of similar power such as Oscar Pine or Yang Xiao Long.

But its true danger comes from a variety of abilities ranging from the esoteric to the downright mystical, all of which combined conspire to render it a foe even Silver Eyes seem incapable of ending permanently.

Adaptability: Foremost among the Tarrasque’s unique powers is the ability to shift its morphology, not necessarily in reaction to threats, but rather to enact its own strategies in accordance to its shifting Modus Operandi.

A list of notable adaptations:

Rapid ejection of armour plates and shedding of mass to act as a distraction and heighten speed and agility.

Rapid mass/armour gain to increase strength and durability.

Adoption of traits from other Creatures of Grimm, including acid and claws.

A single shot back mounted “Blister Speargun” used to engage warships over Vytal, which tore through one ship, destroying it, and catastrophically damaged a second, with the Grimm protoplasm attached to it forming into an army that would see it destroyed as well.

Electrified porcupine quills serving as a countermeasure to grappling by a Lung Dragon, and projecting a dome of EMP capable lightning.

A series of Nevermore wings used to kick up a sandstorm and shoot off its feathers as fletchettes.

A thick, tanklike armour covering that could shrug off capable grade warship weapons and the full attention of multiple Seasonal Maidens.

Multiple draconian heads capable of breathing fire, lightning or acid.

The scream of an apathy with a mile long area of effect.

The ability to absorb and incorporate metal & machinery into its body.

Grimm Control: The Tarrasque’s presence has a peculiar effect on lesser Grimm, one that has thankfully served as a warning indicator, as seen in its letter two appearances. Upon landfall, any Grimm in the vicinity will proceed to freeze in place, displaying no aggression towards humans or faunus, even when attacked. Additionally, any Grimm drawn to the intense negative emotions will automatically succumb to this upon entering a three mile boundary, and remain this way until the Tarrasque breaks off its attack.

This may be counted among the few positives of Tarrasque assaults, as defenders are free to concentrate their firepower on the creature itself without worry of interference. Though this has proven a double edged sword...

Grimm Protoplasm Control: In lieu of control over lesser Grimm, The Tarrrasque has proven capable to control the tar like protoplasm Grimm are made of.

While immediately useful for its adaptation and regeneration, it has also displayed the ability to “dissolve” Grimm into their component protoplasm and manipulate it, drawing it into its body to supplement its abilities.

It may even use this power offensively, using the corrosive properties to deal horrific damage to organic targets, as seen most prominently in it’s initial assault, whereupon it turned a Spawning pit and its accompanying pack into a tidal wave that demolished a village and killed over a dozen Hunters, their Auras broken and bodies ravaged by the tide, or simply left helpless in the face of the monster itself.

Regeneration: While many Titan grimm are capable of a form of regeneration, The Tarrasque’s seems to be truly endless. Whatever damage it sustains is oftentimes healed within minutes. It is also seemingly neverending, even when considering the Protoplasm it uses to supplement itself.

It is a juggernaut, utterly unstoppable and capable of ignoring all damage short of a direct blast from a Silver Eyed Warrior. Even then, the core of the creature remains, allowing it to slip away from the engagement.

Intelligence: The Tarrasque is just another example of a worrying spike in intelligence among powerful enough Grimm.

It displays noteworthy tactical knowledge, prioritizing warships and keeping them at distance with aerial screens of varied nature (Blister cannon, sandstorm, dragon heads) eschewing it’s usual “brawler” style of combat in the face of Seasonal Maidens, dropping body parts to escape the “Slow Zone” Semblance of Oscar Pine, and retreating whenever a Silver Eyed Warrior enters the field.

Behaviour

The Tarrasque is a juggernaut in both physicality and spirit. It is first and foremost a stubborn creature, and one seemingly confident in its own abilities. It meets every threat to it with the force it deems appropriate to counter before attempting to bulldoze it over, seemingly only shifting strategy once it tires. Likewise, it will not break off an assault until Ruby Rose arrives, willing to go toe to toe with veritable armies of Hunters, soldiers, warships, and Seasonal Maidens.

Its goals are...odd, by Grimm standards. Its Modus Operandi shifts with each attack, but it never seems motivated solely by the desire to feed upon negative emotions. Its power and ability would be more than enough to render it a threat to major settlements or even the capital cities themselves, but all of its attacks have been against sparsly populated regions, or seemingly have nothing to do with inhabited areas of all.

But there are theories that is attracted to locations Branched In during the Battle of Requiem, which would place the fledgling Kingdom of Armonia, with the presence of the Branched In city of Residuum, as the only such settlement under threat.

And then their are the theories that every attack so far have only been probes, designed to gauge the Kingdom’s defense and the response times of its greatest defenders...

History: A Recounting of All Four Sightings

Vytal: The Tarrasque was first spotted eleven years ago off the western shores of Vytal, using a massive storm to mask its approach and screen itself from an aerial assault. Despite this, it was engaged by warships, two of which it destroyed using a rudimentary artillery piece.

It would spend the next hour rampaging down Vytal’s western shore, even engaging Winter Maiden Penny Polendina and Yang Xiao Long before Ruby Rose arrived and petrified it. A hole was discovered in its thigh, but it was thought to be simple degradation of the body, and the beast itself killed.

During Vytal, it sported a heavily armoured semi amphibious bipedal form, but it quickly shed its armour in lieu of its more esoteric abilities. Its target was theorized to be a Branched In shrine at the southwestern tip of the island.

Vacuo: The Tarrasque reappeared three years later, making landfall along a vacant stretch of land on the Vacuan side of the Central Sanusian Border.

At first it was thought to be a second beast similar to the Vytal monster, as it sported a quadrupedal form with mole like fore claws and a series of wings meant to kick up sand as a cover against air retaliation and tear apart attackers with its fletchetes.

The battle would last three hours and would once again involve Yang Xiao Long, alongside Oscar Pine and the Summer Maiden, who would unfortunately lose her life in the ensuing struggle.

Ruby would arrive, petrifying it, but the monster would escape by bursting out of the main bodies chest cavity and burrowing a tunnel back to the sea. Its target was theorized to be a series Branched In ruins bordering the Great Desert.

Mistral:

Four years following the second attack, a trail of paralyzed Grimm and upturned trees heading inward from the South Central Anima coast would lead Mistrali forces to discover the Tarrasque’s third incursion.

It’s form would be massively altered from its previous appearance, sporting a sluglike body covered in a thick armour covering and a series of draconian heads acting as homemade artillery. Its most devastating ability would be a screech whose effects mirrored that of The Apathy, with a mile-long radius, forcing warships to engage it at long range.

Over the next five hours it would drive a slow approach towards the Branched In New Kuroyuri, harried by warships and the full attention of two Seasonal Maidens. Upon Ruby’s arrival however, its outer shell would fall apart and release a massive hoard of Grimm which Hunters would be forced to engage in order to prevent a second fall of Kuroyuri.

It was in the aftermath that a unique Creature of Grimm with the name general appearance as the previous assaults would be spotted fleeing back into the ocean, and thus the dots would begin to be connected...

North Sea: Within the last year, a routine warship patrol spotted the Tarrasque on an approach to the southern coast of Solitas and engaged it, but it would promptly “dissolve” into a swarm of flying and aquatic Grimm.

As of yet, its trail has gone, and the necessities of life have forced resources to be turned back to normal operations.

But if the theories prove true...Armonia may be facing a trial by fire not seen since Salem’s final gambit almost three decades ago...

#RWBY #RWBY AU #RWBY OC #RWBYOC #Creatures of Grimm #RWBY: Collective Remnants #Collective Remnants #I know it seems a little ridiculous #But I wanted it to inspire the same Oh Come On! sort of abilities the Endbringers had

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controlledchaos1342-blog · 2 years

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I’m just gonna write a fanfic snippet thing. I will not care if it’s great, good, or even passable. I will write this idea I have had for a long time and post it at basically the middle of the night [graveyard shift looking after my own family... there is often a lot of time spent just existing in a conscious state through midnight to basically sunrise]. Yes this is likely influenced by Rising of the Shield Hero, but i had this idea mostly figured out before finding that anime even existed, the core concept can be done fifty ways and still be somewhat new, and I got the idea because of a Jump-Document. Why is this preamble so long???

-=-

‘Random Internal Monologue Number I-Don’t-Know-I-Don’t-Care-I’ve-Been-Lost-For-Days: This forest is huge. It has something like blackberries, I hate the seeds but I’m sure I’d hate dehydration and starvation as a death-method more. I belive I have been isekai’d for many reasons. One: I went to bed at home, in the middle of a city of some sort, in modern day post-pandemic america... well... supposedly post-pandemic, I fully intended to keep wearing the mask for a decade after just to be safe. Anyway, when I woke up I was in a forest... I think redwood going by how insanely huge the trees are but it could be old oaks, or I might be surrounded by ancient ferns, who knows? Not me. Two: My body... is not quite right... I mean my hair and eye and skin colors all match, I still have the same biological bits, I’m probably the same height... But little things add up. For one; I have needed dental care for a long time now, partially thanks to my own failure at being a functional human that isn’t decaying as they live and partially because american health care sucks. I don’t seem to have cavities in this form, or any little marks from various “I have lived a life in the real world rather than in Anime” things. Three: I have yet to see any sign of people, whether that be whoever might have managed to kidnap me from my own home without waking me up and transporting me far enough a car, At Least, would be needed, or some other signs like camper trails or planes in the sky. Admittedly I can’t see the sky through these trees, hence why, for all I know, it could equally be day or night.’

“Universe... Gods of any sort... When I wished for an isekai event I didn’t mean this... why couldn’t you have sent me to Pokemon?” I was thankful for having my shoes and semi-useful clothes, I scorned whatever made this happen for leaving me without my phone even if all it would be good for would be music. I was thankful for being far enough into both denial and acceptance to not freak out and waste my energy crying my eyes out and screaming, I was not looking forward to when the dam would break and I’d have a panic attack, incapable of screaming regardless.

“Things could be worse, things could be better. This could be a desert where I’d turn into human jerky. This could be a dream where I’ll wake up and laugh it off. Maybe my past experiences were the dream?” I didn’t bother with any pretenses about ‘salvaging my sanity’, humans Need social interaction for their sanity and I’m all alone. All I can do is mitigate the worst of it by fallowing my whims to talk into the void of birdsong and probably-squirrel chittering and sometimes singing because either no one will hear it or some one will and decide to investigate the crazy person singing Echo in the woods.

Bright side: my body decided to forgo feeling hungry again. Down side: that means I have no way of knowing if I’m actively starving to death. Bright side: the ground is very soft and not too yucky. Down side: I discovered that by passing out randomly, multiple times. I think I’ve figured out my limits, maybe.

There was a sound, most likely a somewhat large piece of wood being broken suddenly. My hope is that it’s a person chopping wood. My fear is that it’s an apex predator that had a misstep. Regardless, worse case scenario of my avoiding it when it’s a person is I am never found while worse case of it being a predator while I go investigate is that it spots me and kills me brutally.

Worst case that it is a predator and I don’t investigate is that it already found me.

‘Onwards, to Death probably.’ A part of me refuses to accept this is real, and that’s likely the only reason I could willingly walk to such a certain fate. ‘If I have been isekai’d then what are the chances who ever I find will understand the same language as me?’

‘If I’ve been isekai’d then who likely is it that the main sentience will be humans?’

‘Dude, what if I’m a slave race in this world? Hope this isn’t one of those stories that points out how horribly it could end if you get transported to another world without any connections, in-universe knowledge, or notable skills.’

On the bright side I don’t think I’ll need to worry about classes just yet, if ever in this world. On the down side... I came across a clearing filled with what to me look like RWBY Grimm eating a few deer... Large, black furred beasts with bone-like masks and protrusions, fangs and claws exaggerated enough to be unnatural but within reason to avoid being comical or unwieldy.

‘This... definitely isn’t earth... or really any world I know...’ my body went a bit numb, these creatures were obviously built to overwhelm their prey with power and to be able to at least some what keep up with the swifter ones. I, as a not-so-fit persistence hunter that has historically had to rely heavily on tools to deal with similar creatures, wouldn’t last if they noticed me and decided I was either food-shaped or competition-shaped.

‘Okay but a part of me wants to pet the floof... and there’s the natural inclination to befriend everything which created the whole doggo species... Now... legs, Move Out!’ My body doesn’t listen as I stare, senses honestly verging on overwhelmed by the sight, sounds, and smell of the creatures eating their “lunch”.

‘Alright... Body, I know we don’t always get along, what with my failure of keeping you healthy and the fact this isn’t the first time you refuse to listen to me... but right now, if you don’t start moving carefully and quietly away we will both dye and last I checked that’s the last thing you would want.’ While this solo-conversation, monologue?, is useless in getting my body to ‘listen’ to me it does sort of, almost, calm me down so it’s not completely useless.

And then one of them lifts their head and Sniffs. My eyes widen, and water a bit, as it chuffs and grumbles while shifting away from the carcass and moves in my direction. ‘Move’ it walks, growling a bit as it makes its way to where I am in the foliage, ‘Run’ I can see its lips curling back under the bone-like mask that may or may not be a part of its own skull.

My body doesn’t move, during this whole endeavor as it slinks its way to me, bodily shoving others out of its way, and instead it feels like there’s a stop-gap in my throat, not quite blocking my air flow but definitely my voice. It’s almost like someone forced nearly a have a jar of peanut butter down my throat. Once it gets within a range of me it rears back, snarling as I’m hit full force with the fact that it definitely eats raw meat and is very displeased with my being here before it. The stop-gap essentially shifts as I regain enough voice, not to speak; though that’d be pointless I’m sure, not to scream; I haven’t been able to scream for a long time now, but to whimper and whine.

A pitiful noise escapes my throat as my eyes tear up and my legs give out from under me, I crumple and whine like a five year old being yelled at. I curl like an injured animal-baby that needs its mother to come to its rescue. I sob and the creature... lowers itself to its claws, chuffs again and shifts about.

I don’t have the coherency to think, I am bound to die any minute now, and likely not quickly. I’m trembling as it inches closer, I squeak out in fear as it grabs the back of my shirt and most of my long hair, I thrash and squeak and squeal as it drags me to the pack. I can’t get any words out, my voice has failed me again. I can’t get any purchase with either my hands or legs, my limbs have failed me again. The other creatures have stopped feeding and now watch, likely waiting for the leader to take the first bite.

I get placed near the center, around where most of the prey has been brought. The leader snarls and chuffs and growls and chir- they chirp? I didn’t expect that, nor for one of them to shove a carcass at me, tear a chunk off, and basically shove it at me. I, mostly on instinct to not throw up because raw meat left out for a while now, put my hands between it and my face.

It lets me grab the large piece of meat steps back, a few of them make various vocalizations from gruff growls to almost songbird like chirps. ‘Congratulations me, you have been adopted by the murder beasts and now must survive on raw meat.’ On the bright side I’m not on a restrictive diet for any reason. On the down side I’m a modern day human who has to worry about parasites. ‘When in Rome’, or as the case may be, starving in the woods before adopted by apex predators. The meat seems to be from the belly area but without notable organ pieces.

It’s red and bloody and held together tightly but my teeth are as good as new and I haven’t eaten more than probably two to three meals worth of berries in a long time so I functionally say ‘screw it all’ and take a bite, not too big so i don’t choke or end up having pieces fall out, but not too small in case I can only psyche myself out for one bite.

The blood is sweet on my tongue, I can taste metal like the pain from when I once got my tongue stuck to one of the metal bars in the freezer [I was a stupid child, we all did things like this even if we didn’t admit it], the meat is raw but it’s protein and my body has needed that for a while.

I’m pretty sure a happy sound escapes from me, even with the conflicting side matters of ‘this is raw, potentially rotting meat’ and ‘this feels physically disgusting’ and ‘there are murder beasts watching, are they just trying to fatten me up to eat later?’

I manage to eat a bit more, needing to stop for many reasons, and look up to see most of the murder beasts have turned back to eating as well. ‘I hope this is a tarzan/jungle book scenario and not a hansel/gretel scenario.’

-=-

‘Internal Monologue Number Fuck-It-I’m-Mononoke: The murder beasts have accepted me as a strange child version of their own. I think. I hope.’

It’s been some time, at least five sleep cycles since I found the murder beasts. They hunt as a large pack, aiming for large deer... I think they’re deer any way, and they let me ride on their back for the most part. They occasionally try to mimic me in parts, some trying to walk on their hind legs for a few steps and some chuffing and chirping when I speak, like they’re trying to figure out my words. I’m able to mimic a few of their words, from ‘Happy’ to ‘Hungry’ to ‘Pain’ to ‘Give Me Space Before I Swipe At You’. They have tried a few plants when we encounter them and I try to eat them. Most don’t care for it.

“The clock stopped ticking~ Forever ago~”

The one I’m on, Big Momma [due to being one of the largest, being the one that grooms others most regularly, and the fact that I need to give them nicknames to keep which one’s which a reasonable distinction], chirps and churls in tune, not remotely appropriately to the song but sweet all the same.

“How long have I been up?~ I don’t know~”

Another to the side does a quiet howl. Finding these guys was terrifying, dealing with raw meat as my main food source is somewhere between disgusting and likely unhealthy, and the lack of proper socializing is likely effecting my mental health terribly. But for all of that, these guys are trying to keep me alive, I’m not starving, and talking to wild murder beasts is better then talking to thin air by a long shot. I can’t remember my songs very well, just snippets, but they don’t understand enough to care if I’m singing vocaloid songs, expositing about Pokemon for the sixth time that day, or making up gibberish just to not have to think while hearing something like a human voice.

The one up front, Alpha Mc Doberman, gives the vocal sign to shut up. This typically means ‘Prey is nearby, be ready to hunt’ but sometimes they just get grouchy and want some peace and quiet. Regardless, I shut up and scratch Big Momma in her itchy spots.

About that, I might not know all that much about animal care, or health care in general regardless of the species, but I know basics enough. So I know how to help them with parasites, I know how to scratch areas that itch, how to help them make sure areas don’t get too infected... Basically I’m the pack nurse and back-scratch-er combined. And I’m fine with that. They also thankfully understand that I’m weak and pitiful on a number of levels so they don’t try to use their claws or teeth with me all that often, if at all.

Regardless, as we approach the area ahead I hear it... More murder beasts. On the one hand my murder beasts are nice, they’re pack animals, and intelligent enough to recognize my efforts to help the others through pain [or they have a system where if one is dead/dying the others are allowed to vent frustration but I refuse to think on that]. On the other hand, humans are pack animals, will be extremely nice and protective of those in their pack, are probably more intelligent than these guys, and we went and made nuclear weaponry to get rid of people we didn’t like.

I tense and crouch down into Big Momma’s fur, legs tightening around her middle section and hands grabbing fistfuls of her neck-ruff. She tries to give a comforting purr, low enough that only me and the closest pack-mates could hear. It doesn’t change the fact that the other pack is now coming into view, that upon seeing each other the two leaders seem to snarl, Alpha Mc Doberman doing the same thing they had done at me before deciding I was a lost child and the other seeming to ‘accept’ the challenge.

Both packs snarl but stay physically frozen as the leaders seem to fight for dominance, I can’t help but whine and whimper again. Eyes unable to blink as I stare not just at the fight but at everyone around me. There’s blood and even inner-bone revealed in some swipes. One bites the other on the neck and the other follows. They both release and push the other back, both falling onto all fours and snarling like rabid dogs, snarls deafening to me.

One of the murder beasts from the opposing pack slinks up, snarling quietly. ‘Every one else is staying out of the way.’ Alpha Mc Doberman doesn’t seem to notice but it’s near impossible for me to know what they notice and ignore and what they simply didn’t register until it’s too late. ‘This is a fight between leaders, otherwise everyone would be fighting,’ the intruder rears back and slams down on Alpha, I’m already scrambling, running away from Big Momma and grabbing a large branch from the ground.

Alpha snarls but buckles, the opposing leader backs up with its fangs barred, I’m screaming like a banshee, voice likely more like a dying alley-cat then a human as I bash the stick over the intruder’s head. There’s snarling and growling and shrieking and I don’t know where any of it is coming from. All I know is the intruder bares its teeth and tries to rear up on its hind legs but I refuse to let it be bigger then me, refuse to let it think I won’t hurt it for cheating and hurting my protector of protectors. My voice hurts but I slam the stick at it again and again.

I hear a snarl nearby, the croaky one from our pack who likely got something like lung disease or something, before feeling like someone hit my body with a swinging log. I’m dazed on the ground and have to roll over to keep from drowning on the blood I cough up. I’m too scared to think, both for my own life and for the lives of the pack I’ve lived with as of late. Humans become so easily attached to their ‘people’ after all.

I force myself to stand up, slightly relying on the stick that thankfully wasn’t broken. I cough and hack before screeching again and running, managing to skip the stumbling stage likely through pure adrenaline, and slam the stick into the second intruder. I start hearing fearful chirps now, everything is swimming but I don’t focus on anything but recognizing which murder beast is ‘family’ and which one is ‘intruder’, the latter getting a slowly breaking branch to the face and side and I even manage to jab one in the side like my stick was a spear.

At some point I register that there are no more ‘intruders’ and I just... collapse.

-=-

When I wake up we’ve moved. Many now sport new injuries, some likely to scar. Alpha Mc Doberman has a nasty cut on their side, Big Momma needs cleaning near her face to make sure her eyes and ear don’t get infected, and Patchy seems to be missing a few fangs. I gauge myself, checking if I seem able to move without too much vertigo. I can at least get to the side of the down-stream area of our temporary base and pull my shirt off. It’s all I have had for this and it’s not like I’ll meet human-like people any time soon.

“Come here, cleaning time.” I’ve managed to get them to remember certain phrases, like training a dog. I try to keep the phrases small and easy to remember. Big Momma gets up and first walks to Alpha, who snarls, before making her way to me. She lays down with her face in front of me and I begin to soak my shirt, carefully cleansing the blood and puss and yuck from her face so she doesn’t lose function in anything important.

I try to be gentle for each one in turn, and make sure to show Patchy how to gurgle water so they can clean their mouth out when ever there’s water nearby. Eventually Alpha comes over, hind leg dragging painfully, before letting their weight drop, almost rolling into the river.

“Let’s go to the garden~” I sing, partially to myself, partially to show that I can speak somewhat again, partially for them to hear something soothing. Something from happy, calm times of travel.

“You’ll find something waiting~” I carefully dab the injury, noticing that the wound went far enough that I can see organs. “Right there where you left it~” I’ve only seen this much organs in any thing real when our dog ended up grabbing a mouse, likely tearing its side open completely by accident due to his sadness at the ‘toy’ being ‘broken’.

The wound needed to be closed. “Waiting up~side down~” I felt numb again. None of them kept the skin of their prey so there wasn’t even any cloth to use for wrapping. Even if I used my shirt and pants and nonexistent sewing ability and materials it wouldn’t be enough, they were just that huge compared to me.

I shifted and cried quietly as I leaned into Alpha’s neck ruff. I nuzzled into them because unless these creatures had an amazing healing factor he’d likely die. Even if we stayed here the whole time and provided food for him, the wound still bled [did their claws have a poison to prevent blood clotting?] and I doubt I could keep it from being infected. He was on borrowed time.

He chuffed and lifted his tail once. I wrapped my arms around his neck and whined. My whine was like when they found me, like when our pack found the Intruders, like I was in as much pain as he likely was.

He tried to shift to lick me, this species’ way of comforting, but I didn’t stop whining and crying. I managed to lift myself and get back to cleaning the wound, likely resigning myself to cleaning the wound endlessly until he died. The others started to whine in ‘pain’ as well. A whole pack mourning the leader like his death hurt them deeper then any wound the Intruders clawed into them ever could.

-=-

For a few days we stayed there, occasionally one would go to hunt. Always I stayed near Alpha, continuing to look after everyone’s injuries and my own. The second sleep cycle I ended up setting up fire, to cook [thank you Dad, for teaching me how to cook a slab of meat reliably] and to keep warmth for myself and those having difficulty regulating themselves.

They’ve been aware that I had trouble on cold nights and often made sure I was huddled with one or between two. Patchy was similarly troubled by cold given that most of their fur was too thin, if not just gone.

Every waking cycle, sometimes multiple times in one, we all whined. Even Alpha whined, seemingly not in pain but in empathy along with us all. The third day I ended up howling/screaming at the sky in my sorrow, the soon to be grief forced into my face dredging up not only my feelings towards waking up likely to never see my home and family again, but also the feelings I refuse to focus on from my Grandpa’s passing, from having not contacted old friends in years if not decades, the grief of it seeming like the world was out to isolate me.

The others took this habit on too, howling like we were a pack of wolves. It was deafening but it was comforting. We all had sorrow and we all sought to alleviate it. It wasn’t so nice when one of the whining sessions was interrupted by a lone murder beast walking into our space, snarling at us.

By now I had made sure to gather supplies. I had a blade, a crude one intended to portion out food for myself and anyone who couldn’t tear chunks like they used to. But it was something and I wasn’t dealing with more grief. The intruder reared up and I jumped up with my knife, having been in the midst of sharpening it for maintenance. I snarled, using the ‘Give Me Space Before I Swipe At You’ vocal because I didn’t know a more blatant ‘Fuck Off I’ll Kill You’ version.

It tried to swipe at me with its claws, large sharp things meant to take down things much larger then I’ll ever be in only a couple of blows, and I duck down before springing up and stabbing into it with the knife. I snarled and screeched. My vocalizations switching between angry wild animal and human words that would likely make the christians back home faint.

I tore the knife through it, slashing down to try to gut it, slashing across to do damage without too much commitment in my motion. It swung at me but it was used to fighting its own kin, to things that couldn’t duck nearly as quickly, to things that would aim for the bone plating on its face rather than the comparatively soft underbelly it’s given my full access to.

It backed up and slammed its paws on the ground snarling, I shriek, slamming the knife behind its face-plate, aiming for the vertebrae of its neck, aiming to severe the brain stem. Aiming to kill without mercy.

It doesn’t work, it’s possible my crude knife isn’t long enough to manage to get through the neck ruff. But the intruder is running away now and the pack now howls, not in mourning but in triumph. My fear and fury drain away and I’m left with accomplishment and relief. We survived, there were no worse injuries endured. I cackle. I scream in joy. I howl, seemingly telling the world that it couldn’t take me down if it tried.

-=-

We continue for another few days in the clearing. Alpha’s wound doesn’t really close but he shifts around more. Big Momma seems to be recovering perfectly fine. Croaky took up Patchy’s gurgle treatment at some point, showing that there was some dried blood in the back of their throat.

We still mourn, I still sing, and now we still celebrate. I’m not sure what we celebrate more often then not, I think sometimes it’s to celebrate a particularly good hunt, or someone being notably more healed. I didn’t particularly care what they felt the need to celebrate. It was good for everyone’s mental state to be able to move forward from pure despair.

Sometimes one of them will look somewhere and start snarling, a specific pattern I start to translate as ‘An Intruder Watches’. My response to this has become to stand up, brandish my knife in the direction they’re snarling at, and bare my teeth.

My teeth might be pitiful, I might be small, and I might not know how to convey my will to protect this family I’ve been adopted into, but I know now that walking upright is a stance of power to the murder beasts, that it says a lot that I am seemingly the least injured of the pack, and that word has seemed to spread about the pack that no longer wanders.

Sometimes I wonder what they ‘say’ of us. If they speak of a pack that took in a prey creature as a pet. If they speak of a pack that has scars of ‘in-survivable’ wounds. If they speak of a pack that’s on its last legs, howling in pain daily yet rejoicing in triumph nightly and scaring away any who dare hunt us.

Eventually, I go to clean Alpha’s wounds and... the bleeding has stopped, he no longer stirs, and his body has seemingly gone completely limp. Alpha Mc Doberman has left this world.

I break down, much like when I visited Grandpa in the hospital as he lay dying. I sob and cry as I sit there, unable to even move enough to hold their head. The others start to Mourn as usual, thankfully drowning out my own cries.

-=-

I had passed out, slowly losing the strength to stay conscious as I cried my heart out. When I awaken the others are lethargic and watching. Likely having awaited my rising. Big Momma slumps to me tries to nudge me towards Alpha Mc Doberman’s corpse. I let her lead me and when we sit before what’s left of him I run my hand across his face-plate, through his neck ruff, let my hand rest on the still open gash on his side.

Patchy brings my knife to me... Is this how they work? I can’t understand them well enough to check. All I can do is whine in confusion, a sound they have heard a few times paired with a tilt of my head.

Big Momma seems to take pity on me and does as she did when we first met, tearing out a piece of meat and pushing it towards my face, this time knowing to drop it into my hands. I start to cry again.

It takes me a few minutes to compose myself. I decide to follow their ways on this. I don’t know what their logic is here. But I can make my own and adapt to the pack’s ways all the same. The leader looked after us all. The only thing they can give to us now is their flesh. It could be argued that letting them rot away would be a disgrace to them, a way of saying they would be poison.

It’s possible cooking them would be much the same. I don’t know. I don’t care. I can’t think too much. So I take a bite of them raw. They taste of sweetness, metal, and protein. I’m fine with this becoming the flavor of mourning.

I don’t eat much, only a few bites. Soon the others take from the body as well. I sob where I am and others whine as they eat. It’s not done in callousness. It’s done in honor, in respect. Eventually I look up and pull my knife to me. The other back away a moment and I worry... Do they think I’d hurt them?

I slowly move to the head and start to carefully carve. Some of them mimic my confused whine. I simply choke out, “No Worry,” and continue.

I hear them recommence with eating as I carve the head, aiming to remove the fangs and face plate. I manage to get the head removed and contemplate how to do this... In the end I take it to the fire, which they had kept in ‘rest’, just there enough to not have to restart it without having to worry about it getting out of control or attracting attention too easily.

It’s simple enough to raise the flame, to cook the head. To pick out the tender meats around the bone and pass some to the others as they come close to inspect my actions. Eventually I’m left with bone and teeth. The teeth are sharp. The face-plate has been cracked away from the rest of the skull. I plan to smooth over the edges with grit. I’ll need something to tie it.

I look back to Alpha’s body and decide to grab some of the hide, thick and difficult for the pack to chew it seems. I use my knife, and one of the teeth, to cut the hide away from the meat. I don’t know how to make leather. I try anyway to dry it out by the fire.

-=-

More time has passed. I don’t know who leads this pack anymore. I know wear Alpha’s face plate as a mask, as armor, and use his teeth as blades, one set tied to my gloves in such a way that I can claw into things myself, one set for more traditional knives. Sometimes I need to redo the leather holding everything in place. More often are the times where I hold the mask in my hands and gentle caress it. I still mourn everything but I once again have fallen into my natural state of not feeling it, of not thinking about everything I’ve ever lost.

Sometimes I wander with one of the pack-mates, once I found a pretty good stick and turned a tooth into a spear. One time I accompanied Big Momma on a hunt and stabbed a prey before it could escaped. Everyone was particularly joyous for that bout of nightly celebration.

My clothes grow thin, ragged. I feel confident in my leather-making, enough so that I’m trying to piece together something to cover my chest and waist, something to wrap around my arms and legs. Getting to trying to figure out a good fit shows me that... I’m certainly not of ‘my old body’ anymore..,

I’ve grown strong. Lean. My arms and legs have notable musculature. ‘Congratulations. I have abs.’ The pack doesn’t bother to question my laughter. Some thump their tails, they know it’s my happy sound.

-=-

The pack-mates have learned to bring certain fruits back from some hunts, so my diet is a bit more balanced. I cook some, eat others raw, got sick from a couple that are now left where ever they grow.

One celebration, after a particularly good hunt, we all sing. “Merry we be, we few folk we~” I have long since decided to just sing what ever comes to mind, as long as it matches the tone. I have no clue anymore whether I sing something from the recesses of my memory if it’s honestly just a ‘new song’ of sorts.

Our celebration, sadly, gets cut short. A snarl from nearby, the happy howls stop and the pack cowers as they did when the Intruders were found. I stop my happy bouncing and turn to the, now visibly familiar, enemy pack.

The leader from before, now worse for wear as is the rest of its pack, comes forth and rears back, curling its lips and snarling.

No one of my pack steps forward. As far as I know we don’t have a leader. We’re ‘defenseless’ as far as this species is concerned.

The Intruder’s leader seems happy at the lack of visible challenge and its pack starts to inch closer. I’m not losing anyone else. I snarl, not communicating anything more complex then my own displeasure, and step forth, brandishing my tooth-gloved hand and the spear that has been adjusted and improved over time.

The enemy rears a bit further back, nearly falling over and snarls, seemingly threatening to bite my head off. I screech back, “SILENCE!”

A number of the Intruders back up, at least one whimpers. Did I bellow? The enemy pulls its forelegs back, readying a swipe, and I rear my ‘clawed’ hand back and lay the spear horizontal to minimize the chance of it getting in my way if I need to duck.

One leg over estimates my height, missing me completely as the other aims just under my chest. I lean back, using my spear to help ensure I don’t fall over but honestly I had been making sure I was maneuverable for a while now.

I knew how useful flexibility was, I knew that when you need to move at a moments notice you need to have as many directions as possible available. I could probably do pretty well in limbo in this body honestly. When I lean back I shift into a full lunge, stabbing the enemy with the spear, through the shoulder.

Nothing lethal on its own but something that will make moving painful for a murder beast. The enemy backs up a step and snarls, I snarl right back and slash its chest with my ‘claws’, actively choosing to step forward.

My pack-mates churr, I’m making a good show against the Intruder’s leader. Croaky hacks a snarl and I shift back. My eyes are wildly moving before I see it. The same one as what took our Alpha through such underhanded means.

It jumps out to attack, aiming to pounce on my like pitiful prey. My claws tear into it’s throat and my spear stab into it’s side and I’m swiveling around and it’s thrown into the ground bleeding whimpering. I nearly fell over and I nearly twisted my ankle, it’s possible I nearly tore my foot clean off with that stunt but it worked. I’m still standing. I’m already facing the enemy again. I stopped an attack from breaking our stand-off.

The intruders are whining. Some are backing up. The enemy is shrinking in on itself. The honor-less Curr is limping away. My pack-mates are howling in triumph. Adrenaline rushes through me, not from fear but from excitement.

I cackle.

The Intruders run.

We celebrate for many days, trading out many of our mourning ours with more celebration.

It clicks that I’ve taken on the roll of the leader... “I’m so fricking screwed.”

I couldn’t care less. We are safe. We might have lost one but we won’t lose any others for a long time if I can help it.

#So I started writing this before midnight #It's around a quarter after three in the morning #It just kept being written #this is purely self indulgent #Original Story?#It's at least not based off of a fandom I'm consciously aware of #may continue later #if there are similarities to other fandoms that's coinsedense #okay except the RWBY Grimm creature knock offs #I like the aesthetic but it's just a matter of appearance they don't have the same origins or mechanics #Random Fandom Mentions #Isekai #Murder Beast Saga

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