Friday, September 8, 2017

RWBY: The Novelization: Ruby Rose and the Shining Beacon

 
It was a quiet evening in the Kingdom of Vale. A Dust shop called From Dust Till Dawn was tucked away on one side of the city’s streets.
It was growing late, and in preparation for the next day, the old shopkeeper was hard at work cleaning his display cases and sweeping his floors. He looked up at the clock. Only a half hour left before he could close.
He went into the backroom and put his broom, cleaning spray, and rags away when he heard his shop’s bell ring. He looked to see who it was and saw a short girl in a black combat skirt paired with a red riding hood and cape walk to the back of the store. The old man smiled. He knew who it was. She was probably just here to check out the new Weapons Monthly. The old man wasn’t worried, but he did note a strange crimson metal object hooked onto her lower back.
The shopkeeper still paid it no mind and went back to his nightly cleaning duties. Finally he walked back up to the front desk and started locking his display cases which were full of Dust crystals, the number one energy propellant in the world used in everything from weapons to technology and even used in its rawest form giving its wielders control over the forces of nature.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, there were five shadows just outside his shop window.
Five men strode brazenly in. Four looked like Junior’s men from Junior’s Club. But the one who led them—there was a dangerous air about him. He had shocking orange hair slicked over one of his eyes with a black bowler on top. He wore a worn white coat over a tacky, outdated suit and he carried a cane with red accents. But the thing that irked the old man most of all was that the man was smoking a cigar in the store.
The five walked up to the front desk and the leader tapped the ash from his cigar onto the display case. The old man gaped.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a Dust shop open this late?” asked the man in white.
One of Junior’s men pointed a gun at the old man.
“Please!” he begged. “Just take my money and leave!”
The man in white shushed him. “Calm down,” he said reassuringly. “We’re not here for your money.” He smiled. Then turned to Junior’s men and demanded, “Grab the Dust.”
One of Junior’s men produced a case that was taller than it was wide. Inside were two rows of five canisters, each with a nipple on top. Three of the others each grabbed a canister and walked over to the glass tubes of raw Dust lining the store’s walls. Each put a canister beneath a different color of Dust and watched as a bar on the side of each canister began to light up telling them when the canister was full.
Another one of Junior’s men opened another case and demanded of the shopkeeper, “Crystals. Burn. Uncut.”
The old shopkeeper reluctantly reached into his display case and did as he was told.
As Junior’s men continued to perpetrate the robbery, one of them could just barely hear muffled music coming from somewhere. He looked toward the back of the store and saw the girl in the red hood reading a magazine.
The thief drew his red-bladed parang and demanded, “All right, kid. Put your hands where I can them!”
The girl didn’t respond.
The man sneered. “Hey! I said hands in the air!” He approached the girl and turned her by the shoulder. “You got a death wish or something?!”
The girl’s hood came off and she looked at the man surprised.
The man pointed at his ears.
The girl took her head phones off. “Yes?” she said casually.
“I said, put your hands in the air. Now!”
“Are you… robbing me?” asked the girl entertained.
“Yes!” said Junior’s man frustrated.
“Oh…” she said slowly. Her lips curled back into a smile.
The rest of Junior’s men continued the robbery while the man in white examined a Dust crystal. They heard a battle cry followed by a thump and the one henchman went flying past them and crashed into the front wall.
The man in white nodded at another and he charged the girl. This time a streak of red and mass of black flew past breaking the window out into the street.
The rest of the thieves looked out the window and saw the henchman knocked out cold while the short girl stood up proudly. The red metallic object hooked onto her back was now balanced on her shoulder and it extended into a large mechanical scythe. The haft was at least twice as long as the girl was tall, and its menacing, curved double blade was just as tall as her.
The girl looked at them and gave a confident smirk. She impressively flourished the scythe around hand over hand and arm over arm before bringing it to a stop on her other side letting its blade tip crash into the street.
“Okay…” said the man in white. “Get her.”
Junior’s men charged the girl. But using the scythe’s haft like a balance beam, she spun around it and kicked the first one in the chest with both feet.
The girl landed and held her scythe crossways behind her. She pulled a subtlety hidden trigger on it. A shot was fired and the recoil from the end of the scythe made the girl spin around with such force that when the scythe butt connected with the next henchman he was sent flying.
The third pulled a machine gun and started firing. But the girl kept pulling the trigger on her scythe and used the force of the recoil to dodge the gunfire not once, not twice, but three times. She dodged toward the henchman, swept him up with her scythe and then brought it around again knocking him back to the street. He landed pathetically at the boss’ feet.
The man in white looked down. “You were worth every cent. Truly, you were.” He took a step forward. “Well Red, I think we can all say it’s been an eventful evening.” He dropped his cigar on the ground and smothered it with the end of his cane.
“And as much as I’d love to stick around,” he continued, pointing his cane at the girl, “I’m afraid this is where we part ways.”
The girl gave him a quizzical look. Then the end of his cane opened up and revealed an aiming reticule. The gangster fired a shot from the end of his cane which exploded when it hit the road.
The girl managed to dodge using the recoil from her scythe to jump over the shot. She landed among chunks of broken road and looked for the ruffian. She noticed him behind her climbing a building’s fire escape.
He just barely cleared the top of the fire escape as the girl nearly flew to the top of the building using her scythe to propel her.
“Hey!” she called.
He growled. “Persistent little…”
The girl scowled and readied herself for combat when what sounded like an accelerating turbine engine reached her ears. A Bullhead-class airship shot into the night sky from behind the building. The girl recoiled from the wind it kicked up.
A hatch on the side opened up and the man climbed into it.
He turned and shouted, “End of the line, Red!” before throwing a burn crystal at her feet.
He took aim with his cane and fired. There was an explosion and he whooped with joy.
But before the explosion had gone off, a tall figure had dropped in front of the girl. When the smoke and fire cleared, a tall, middle aged woman, with glasses and short blonde hair was standing there holding a riding crop with a purple glyph held up before her to shield her and the girl from the blast.
The man in white growled.
The woman brandished her crop and several purple streaks shot from its end and crashed into the airship making the pilot lose control.
“We’ve got a huntress!” shouted the man in white to the airship’s pilot.
The pilot turned out to be a young woman in a red dress with long black hair. She rushed to the side door as the man in white tried to control the airship.
The huntress shot a purple light into the sky above the airship and a storm manifested. Shards of ice descended from the cloud piercing the ship.
The young woman in red appeared in the side hatch. She took stock of the situation and seemed awfully relaxed. The sleeves on her dress burned revealing embedded Dust. She activated the Dust with her aura and cast a fireball at the huntress.
The huntress defended herself with another glyph splitting the ball into many tiny fragments all over the roof. The young woman raised her hand and the fragments exploded, but the huntress was able to back flip out of it.
The huntress used her psychokinetic powers and gathered the shards of the roof into a deadly spike and launched it at the airship. The young woman fired several blasts from her hands trying to destroy it, but the spike merely reformed and continued on its course.
The man in white, being somewhat clever, tilted the ship and managed to ricochet the spike off the top hull of the ship.
Not to be outdone, the huntress separated the spike into three streams and threatened to slice the ship to bits. But the young woman summoned the fire from her dress and expended it outwardly blasting the streams apart.
The airship was offered a brief respite and began to turn away.
The girl, not willing to let these crooks get away, transformed her scythe into a more compact shape that allowed her to use its embedded rifle more accurately. She charged the bolt and began firing, but the young woman aboard the ship was able to block each shot. She then cast a ring of fire around both the girl and huntress.
The huntress threw the girl out of harm’s way with her telekinesis before barely escaping herself.
Finally, the ship’s hull closed and flew off into the night. Everything was quiet again.
After a pause, the girl turned to the woman. “You’re a huntress? Can I have your autograph?!” she gushed.
Somehow, some time later, the girl found herself on the wrong side of a table in an interrogation room used by Vale’s police department.
The middle aged woman paced the room. “I hope you realize your actions tonight will not be taken lightly, young lady,” she said sternly. “You put yourself and others in grave danger.”
“They started it!”
“If it were up to me, you’d be sent home with a pat on the back…”
The girl brightened.
“And a slap on the wrist!” The woman punctuated her statement by slamming her riding crop onto the table making the girl yelp in surprise.
“But… there is someone here who would like to meet you.”
The girl blinked, and in walked an elderly gentleman of at least sixty. He had grey hair and wore an old-fashioned, but still stylish, three-piece emerald green suit. He had blacked out glasses that sat low on his nose, and carried a mug in one hand and a plate of large chocolate chip cookies in the other.
“Ruby Rose,” he said, addressing the girl. He leaned in, “You…”
Ruby raised her eyebrows.
“Have silver eyes.”
Ruby looked away confused. “Um?”
“So!” said the distinguished man. “Where did you learn to do this?”
The woman took out a full-sized scroll and pulled up footage of Vale’s security footage showing off Ruby’s impressive combat skills.
“S-Signal Academy,” replied Ruby unsure of whether or not she was still in trouble.
“They taught you how to use one of the most dangerous weapons ever designed?” he asked intensely.
“Well, one teacher in particular.”
“I see…” he said, placing the plate of cookies before the girl. “Help yourself.”
Ruby looked at them both and hesitated. But only for a moment before shoving cookies in her mouth at will. They were delicious. Almost as good as her mother’s. In fact, they were strangely similar.
The gentleman continued. “It’s just that I’ve seen only one other scythe-wielder of that skill before. A dusty, old crow…”
“Oh!” chimed the girl, and she tried to speak with her mouth full. She stopped and gave herself a chance to swallow and cleared her throat a little embarrassed. “Sorry. That’s my Uncle Qrow. He’s a teacher at Signal. I was complete garbage before he took me under his wing. And now, I’m all like…” Ruby’s description devolved into faux karate moves complete with soft kiai and battle cries.
The gentleman smiled at her taking a sip from his mug. He enjoyed her enthusiasm. “So I’ve noticed.” He placed his mug on the table and sat down. “And what is an adorable girl such as yourself doing at a school designed to train warriors?”
“Well,” Ruby began seriously, “I want to be a huntress.”
“You want to slay monsters?”
“Yeah. I only have two more years of training left at Signal, and then I’m going to apply to Beacon. See, my sister’s starting there this year, and she’s trying to become a huntress. And I’m trying to become a huntress because I wanna help people, and my parents always taught us to help others, so I thought, well, might as well make a career out of it.” She giggled nervously.
“I mean, the police are all right, but huntsmen and huntresses are just so much more romantic and exciting and cool and…” Ruby let out an excited squeal. “You know?!”
There was a brief pause. The woman blinked and frowned. But the gentleman’s stare was much more pleasant and understanding.
After a while, he asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re Professor Ozpin. You’re the headmaster at Beacon.”
“Hm,” said Ozpin satisfied. “Hello.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You want to come to my school?”
“More than anything.”
Ozpin exchanged looks with the woman standing next to him. She rolled her eyes.
“Well,” began Ozpin, “okay.”
Ruby couldn’t believe her ears as a euphoric smile crept across her face. She still couldn’t believe developments when she was aboard an airship with other students being ferried to Beacon.
Her older sister Yang still wouldn’t shut up about it. “This is the best day ever!” she cried, embracing Ruby tightly.
“Please stop…” begged Ruby between crushed lungs.
It was bad enough that Yang was infamous for giving the sort of hugs that could collapse airways, but it was made worse by the fact that she was incredibly strong and topped all her hugs off with the sort of exuberance that can only come from an over doting older sister.
“But I’m so proud of you!” said Yang, releasing Ruby. She bounced on the balls of her feet overflowing with enthusiasm.
“Really, sis; it was nothing.”
“What do you mean? It was incredible! Everyone at Beacon is going to think you’re the bee’s knees!”
“I don’t wanna be the bee’s knees. Okay? I don’t wanna be any kind of knees! I just want to be a normal girl with normal knees.”
“What’s with you? Aren’t you excited?”
“Of course, I’m excited. I just… I got moved ahead two years. I don’t want people to think I’m special or anything.”
Yang cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and wrapped an arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “But you are special. A lot of people may only see you as just small and helpless. They may see you as just a child. But they’ll be surprised when a warrior soon runs wild.”
Ruby thought Yang was overdoing the big sister act, but somewhere deep inside, Yang’s argument was hitting home. This only made Ruby feel more torn between trying to appear normal and feeling guilty for not taking Yang’s praise.
Suddenly, there was a telecast on the airship. “The robbery was led by nefarious criminal Roman Torchwick who continues to evade authorities.”
Ruby looked up and recognized the man in the mug shot as being the one she had thwarted at From Dust Till Dawn.
“If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the Vale Police Department. Back to you, Lisa.”
“Thank you, Cyril,” said a woman with violet hair. “In other news, this Saturday’s Faunus Civil Rights protest turned dark when members of the White Fang disrupted the ceremony. The once peaceful organization has now disrupted—”
The broadcast was interrupted and a visual of the blonde haired woman from the other night showed up on the screen. “Hello, and welcome to Beacon.”
“Who’s that?” asked Yang.
“My name is Glynda Goodwitch. I’m a professor at Beacon.”
“Oh.”
Professor Goodwitch continued, “You are among a privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy. Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future huntsmen and huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it.
“You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task. And now, it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and the training to protect our world.” The visual of Goodwitch disappeared.
“Oh, wow!” said Ruby, rushing over to one of the windows on the ship. The view of Vale’s cityscape was breathtaking. “You can see Signal from here,” she said to Yang. “I guess home isn’t too far after all.”
“Beacon’s our home now.”
There was a groan from the rear of the ship. Yang and Ruby looked and saw a young man with his arm around his stomach and a hand over his mouth. He wore a white breastplate over a blue hoodie and had a messy head of blonde hair. As the airship came to dock at a cliff overlooking a grand lake that was just outside Beacon, the young man ran to depart the airship as fast as possible.
“Well, I guess the view isn’t for everyone,” commented Yang.
“It was a nice moment while it lasted.”
“I wonder who we’re going to meet.”
That was just like Yang. She loved meeting new people, and had no problems making friends.
“I just hope they’re better than Vomit Boy,” said Ruby.
Vomit Boy heard her. He twisted to look back at her. Ruby turned red and faced away. Fortunately for her, Vomit Boy had to turn to a waste can just outside the airship with all haste enabling Ruby to sneak past with Yang.
Yang and Ruby made it to the courtyard just outside of Beacon and couldn’t stop themselves from a simultaneous gasp of awe. Beacon Academy looked more like a Gothic castle made of alabaster stone than a combat school. It was truly enormous and the CCTS tower, Cross Continental Transmit System, was at the center of it all.
Yang said, “The view from Vale’s got nothing on this.”
Ruby didn’t hear her. She was too busy geeking out over other students’ weapons. “Sis! That kid’s got a collapsible staff! And she’s got a fire sword!”
“Easy, little sister!” chided Yang. “They’re just weapons.”
“Just weapons?! They’re an extension of ourselves! They’re a part of us! Oh, they’re so cool.”
“Well, why can’t you swoon over your own weapon? Aren’t you happy with it?”
“Of course, I’m happy with Crescent Rose,” said Ruby. She swung it out and cuddled it like a stuffed toy.
Yang had the feeling Ruby would sleep with it if she could.
“I just really like seeing new ones. It’s like meeting new people. But… better.”
“Ruby! Come on!” Yang said, pulling Ruby’s hood over her head. “Why don’t you go and try to make some friends of your own?”
“But, why would I need friends when I have you?”
“Well, actually my friends are here now. Gotta go. Kay. See ya! Bye!” And like that, Yang was gone in a flash after some group of people Ruby had never seen before.
“Wait!” she called after her. “Where are you going? Aren’t we supposed to go to our dorms? Where are our dorms? Do we have dorms?”
But Yang was gone.
Ruby sighed heavily and stared forlornly along the path that Yang had disappeared. She groaned. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, collapsing to the ground. Or at least she would have if a luggage cart hadn’t slammed into her heel and knocked her back into several large suitcases.
“What’re you doing?!” someone shrieked.
Ruby looked up and saw a girl about Yang’s age dressed in a white combat skirt complemented by a vest and had long white hair. It had been pulled back into a pony tail, but oddly, not at the back of her head—it was off to the side. Ruby also noted that there were two men in extravagant suits with her helping to transport her luggage.
“Um, sorry!” said Ruby.
“Sorry?! Do you have any idea of the damage you could’ve caused?”
“Uh…”
The girl picked up one of her cases checking its contents. She pulled out a glass vial of red Dust. “This is Dust. Mined and purified from the Schnee quarry. What are you? Brain dead? Dust! Fire. Water. Lightning. Energy. Are you even listening to me? Is any of this sinking in? What do you have to say for yourself?!” the girl demanded, shaking the vial.
Some of the vial’s contents escaped and filled Ruby’s nostrils. She couldn’t stop herself from sneezing which would have been bad enough, except sneezing from the Dust created a fireball that completely engulfed the girl opposite her.
The vial of Dust was thrown across the courtyard into the ankle high boots of another girl who had long black hair and a black bow. She picked up the Dust with mild curiosity before returning to the book she held in her other hand. Finally, she gave the vial a good look and recognized the Schnee family crest.
“Unbelievable!” cried the girl in white. “This is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about!”
“I’m really, really sorry!” said Ruby, looking at the ground.
“You complete dolt! What are you even doing here? Aren’t you a little young to be attending Beacon?”
Ruby hemmed and hawed.
“This isn’t your ordinary combat school. It’s not just sparring and practicing, you know. We’re here to fight monsters, so—watch where you’re going!”
“Hey! I said I was sorry, princess!”
Ruby finally had the nerve to look the girl in the eye and noticed a rather nasty scar across her left eye. For such a well primped girl, it was a unique oddity that should have been hidden, or at least attempted to be hidden. It was the girl’s only noticeable flaw besides her terrible attitude.
“It’s heiress, actually,” corrected the girl in the ankle boots. She walked up to them. “Weiss Schnee. Heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. One of the largest producers of energy propellant in the world.”
“Finally! Some recognition,” said Weiss, her tone changing.
“The same company,” continued the dark haired girl, “infamous for its controversial labor forces and questionable business partners.”
“Why you—! How dare—!”
Weiss let out a disgusted sigh and took her vial of Dust before walking off. Her servants attended to her luggage.
Despite her horrendous attitude and seeing how sweet it was for Weiss to get her just desserts, Ruby still felt guilty. “I promise I’ll make this up to you!” she called obsequiously. “I guess I’m not the only one having a rough first day.
“So…” said Ruby, turning back to the other girl. But she had already left.
Ruby was depressed. She collapsed. “Welcome to Beacon,” she said to herself.
Suddenly, someone’s shadow crossed her face.
“Hey. I’m Jaune,” said a boy. He offered her his hand.
“Ruby,” she said, unsure of whether or not to take it.
She did and Jaune pulled her up.
“Wait. Aren’t you Vomit Boy?”
The two walked off together and found themselves alone in a different part of Beacon’s enormous and maze-like courtyard.
“All I’m saying is that motion sickness is a much more common problem than people let on,” Jaune explained, defending himself.
“Look, I’m sorry. ‘Vomit Boy’ was the first thing that came to mind.”
“Oh, yeah?! Well what if I called you ‘Crater Face?’”
“Hey! That explosion was an accident.”
“Yeah. Because like anybody pukes on purpose,” said Jaune. “Anyway, the name’s Jaune Arc. Short. Sweet. Rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it.”
Ruby stifled a laugh. “Do they?”
“Th-They will! Well, I hope they will. I mean, my mom always says—uh, well, never mind.”
Ruby laughed nervously. Desperate to change the topic to anything else, she said, “So, I’ve got this thing,” and pulled out her scythe.
Jaune jumped back. “Whoa! Is that a scythe?”
“It’s also a customizable, high-impact sniper rifle.”
“Huh?”
“It’s also a gun.”
“Oh. That’s cool!”
“So, what have you got?”
“I got this sword,” said Jaune, unsheathing it.
“Ooh!” said Ruby genuinely.
“I’ve also got a shield.” Jaune took the sheathe off his belt and it expanded outwards in both directions into a classic shield.
“So, what do they do?”
“Um, the shield gets smaller,” explained Jaune as it did so. “So, when I get tired of carrying it, I can just… put it away.”
“But…” said Ruby, grabbing onto the obvious logical problem, “wouldn’t it weigh the same?”
“Yeah,” said Jaune, sounding defeated.
“Well, um, I’m kind of a dork when it comes to weapons. I guess I did go a little overboard in designing mine.”
“Wait! You made that?”
“Of course! All the students at Signal forge their own weapons. Didn’t you make yours?”
“It’s a hand-me-down. My great-great-grandfather used it back in the war.”
“Sounds more like a family heirloom to me. But, I like it! Not many people have an appreciation for the classics these days.”
“Yeah,” agreed Jaune bolstered. “The classics.”
“So why did you help me out?”
Jaune sheathed his sword. “Enh, why not? My mom always says, ‘Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet.’”
“Hm. By the way, where are we going?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was following you.” Looking around, Jaune asked, “Do you think there’s a directory or food court around here?”
Ruby stifled another laugh.
“Is that a ‘no?’”
“That’s a ‘no.’”
Eventually, Jaune and Ruby found their way to Beacon’s auditorium. New students were milling about everywhere waiting for the headmaster to make his opening statement.
“Ruby!” called out Yang, waving. “Over here!”
“Hey,” said Ruby, turning to Jaune, “I gotta go. I’ll see you after the ceremony.”
“Hey, wait!” called Jaune after her. He groaned. “Great. Where am I supposed to find another nice, quirky girl to talk to?” He stomped off with his shoulders slumped forward. “Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, they always leave. My luck with women is terrible.”
Jaune looked at the floor and continued to curse his luck. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a girl wearing bronzed greaves over knee high boots. He looked up and briefly made eye contact with a tall, beautiful girl with long, red hair wearing a golden circlet and bronze breastplate with a red miniskirt. She gave him a smile and a little wave. But that was lost on Jaune.
Ruby joined Yang but gave her the cold shoulder. She hadn’t forgotten what Yang had done.
Sensing the tension, Yang asked, “How’s your first day going, little sister?”
“You mean since you ditched me and I exploded?!”
“Yikes. Meltdown already?”
“No, I literally exploded a hole in front of the school. And there was some fire, and I think some ice.”
Yang smiled. “Are you being sarcastic?”
“I wish! I fell over some crappy girl’s luggage and then she yelled at me. And then I sneezed, and then I exploded! And then she yelled again. And I felt really bad and I just wanted her to stop.”
“You!” said a shrill voice from behind Ruby.
“Oh, god!” cried Ruby, jumping into Yang’s arms. “It’s happening again!”
“You were lucky we weren’t blown off the side of the cliff,” continued Weiss.
“Oh my god,” replied Yang. “You really exploded.”
“It was an accident!” cried Ruby, jumping down.
Weiss stuck a pamphlet in front of Ruby’s face titled “Dust For Dummies.”
“What’s this?”
“The Schnee Dust Company isn’t responsible for any injuries or damages sustained while operating a Schnee company product….”
Weiss continued to ramble off the fine print legalities while Ruby just stared at the pamphlet blankly wondering if this situation could get any worse.
“You really want to start making things up to me?”
“Absolutely.”
Weiss shoved the pamphlet into Ruby’s hands. “Read this, and don’t ever speak to me again.”
“Look…” began Yang, “it sounds like you two just got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t you start over and try to be friends, okay?”
“Yeah! Great idea, sis. Hello, Weiss. I’m Ruby. Wanna hang out? We could go shopping for school supplies.”
“Yeah!” said Weiss excitedly. “And we can paint our nails, and try on clothes, and talk about cute boys like… tall, blonde, and scraggly over there.”
Weiss jerked her thumb in Jaune’s direction. He took notice.
“Wow! Really?”
Weiss gave a consummate glare. “No.”
At last, Ozpin appeared on the front stage and cleared his throat. “I’ll keep this brief. You’ve travelled here today in search of knowledge—to hone your craft and acquire new skills. And when you’ve finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people. But I look amongst you and all I see… is wasted energy, in need of purpose.”
Yang’s eyes narrowed. She had plenty of purpose if someone just cared to ask.
“You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that knowledge can only take you so far. It is up to you to take the first step.”
Ozpin stepped aside and Glynda stepped up.
“You will gather in the ballroom tonight. Tomorrow, your initiation begins. Be ready. You’re dismissed.”
Yang noted, “He seemed kind of… off.”
“Almost like he wasn’t even there,” added Ruby.
Jaune materialized next to Weiss. “I’m a natural blonde, you know.”
She facepalmed.
Later that night, all the new students had gathered in the ballroom as instructed. Bedrolls had been laid out for them. They changed into their pajamas and started going to bed, but some still milled around.
“It’s like a big slumber party!” said Yang, flinging herself down next to Ruby.
“I don’t think Dad would approve of all the boys though,” observed Ruby, writing something.
“I know I do!”
Yang looked up and saw several flexing their muscles, stretching, and horsing around. She growled amorously at them. But then Jaune walked into her line of sight wearing footie pajamas. She grimaced.
“Ugh. What’s that?” she said to Ruby.
“A letter to the gang back at Signal. I promised to tell them all about Beacon and how things are going.”
“Aw! That’s so cute!”
“Shut up!” cried Ruby. She pelted Yang in the face with a pillow. “I didn’t get to take my friends with me to school. It’s weird not knowing anyone here.”
“What about Jaune? He’s… nice. There you go! Plus one friend. That’s a hundred percent increase!”
“Pretty sure Weiss counts as a negative friend. Back to zero.”
“There’s no such thing as negative friends,” said Yang, her mood not dampening at all. “You’ve just made one friend and one enemy.”
Yang got another pillow, this time in the shape of a Corgi head, thrown in her face.
“Look,” she said, becoming serious, “it’s only been one day. Trust me. You’ve got friends all around you. You just haven’t met them yet.”
Ruby doubted that, but before she could really think on it, a flickering light distracted her out of the corner of her eye. Over by the wall was the girl with the dark hair and bow reading a book by candlelight.
“That girl.”
“You know her?”
“Not really. She saw what happened this morning but left before I could say anything.”
“Welp, now’s your chance!” Yang bounded onto her feet and pulled Ruby with her.
“Wait! What are you doing?!”
They approached the dark haired girl with all the subtlety of a dump truck.
“Hell-o!” said Yang in a sing-song type of voice. “I believe you two may know each other.”
The girl said to Ruby, “Aren’t you that girl that exploded?”
“Uh, yeah. My name’s Ruby,” she said, extending her hand.
The girl didn’t seem interested.
“But… uh, you can just call me Crater Fa… actually, you can just call me Ruby.”
“Okay,” said the girl, continuing to read.
Yang whispered to Ruby, “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know! Help me!”
Yang turned back to the girl. “So! What’s your name?”
The girl sighed. “Blake.”
“Well Blake, I’m Yang. Ruby’s older sister.”
Blake gave them a hard stare. They were sisters? One was tall with long blond hair, and the other was sort of short with short black hair and dark red highlights. Were they adopted?
“I like your bow!” said Yang.
“Thanks…”
“It goes great… with your pajamas.”
“Right…”
“Nice night, don’t ya think?”
 “Yes!” said Blake, her patience wearing thin. “It’s lovely. Almost as lovely as this book.”
The sisters stayed where they were.
“That I will continue to read. As soon as you leave!”
“Yeah,” said Yang. “This girl’s a lost cause.”
“What’s it about?” asked Ruby.
“Huh?”
“Your book. What’s the title?”
“Well… it’s about a man with two souls each fighting for control over his body.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Yang uninterested. “That’s real lovely.”
“I love books,” said Ruby. “Yang used to read to me every night before bed. Stories of heroes and monsters. They’re one of the reasons I want to be a huntress.”
“Why is that?” asked Blake, half laughing. “Hoping you’ll live happily ever after?”
“I’m hoping we all will. As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the books. As someone who fought for what was right and protected those who couldn’t protect themselves.”
“That’s very ambitious for a child. Unfortunately,” said Blake, tuning sad, “the real world isn’t the same as a fairy tale.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here,” reasoned Ruby. “To make it better.”
Yang couldn’t stop herself. “Oh! I’m so proud of my baby sister!” She embraced Ruby in one of those near death inducing hugs.
“Cut it out!” said Ruby, slugging Yang.
Blake giggled. “Well, Ruby, Yang. It’s been—”
“What in the world is going on around here?!” said Weiss, suddenly appearing. “Don’t you realize some of us are trying to sleep?”
“Aw! Not you again!” cried Yang.
Ruby shushed them. “Guys! She’s right. People are trying to sleep.”
“Oh!” said Weiss disgusted. “Now you’re on my side.”
“I was always on your side!”
“Yeah! What’s your problem with my sister?” demanded Yang.
Weiss stomped. “She’s a hazard to my health!”
Blake blew out her candle and walked away. They’d probably be squabbling for a while, and tomorrow was a big day for them all. Blake wanted to get an early start, but as she headed for her bedroll, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking fondly about Ruby and Yang. One was living her dream and doing it for the right reasons. And the other was trying to help her along, picking her up when she stumbled. If only more people were like them.
Weiss Schnee on the other hand—that girl… was still a problem.

RWBY: The Novelization is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC.

Crypto Theory: Are Cryptids Real Animals?

Hey, everyone.

So, I'm continuing my series of Crypto Theory. I don't know how long this will go on for, but considering that "crypto theory" is such a generic name, any theory regarding cryptozoology, even if it's not about the origin and species of cryptids, is fair game. Now, some of you probably don't have an issue with me writing about cryptids, but I do want to do something with ghosts and spirits in the future.

Also, I want to remind you all of my book Tales of Horror: Macabre Monsters of Michigan. The prices are still $.99 for Kindle and $4.99 for paperback, so they're still cheap. Get'em while they are. I'm in the middle of edits right now and expecting my first reviews any day now.



Anyway, in this post of Crypto Theory, I'm going to be looking at a more basic theory for the origin of cryptids, and it is...

 

That's right; are cryptids real animals? I mean, are cryptids animals that have evolved on our planet? If we were to study them, could we actually trace their DNA back a few thousand years and find that their ancestors resided on our planet? Well, let's take a look at this.

Many scientists and experts in the field of cryptozoology study cryptids from the perspective that they are real creatures, typically some form of animal, which might actually be working against the field when it comes to skeptics because certain cryptids are too weird to actually be real. But, what if the theory hath authority? What if cryptids are real flesh and blood animals?

Consider Bigfoot: he's been around for decades, is seen all across the world, and may even have a sound ancestor in the form of Gigantopithecus. And, there are claims from multiple sources that we have hair and blood samples of the creature. In the episode "Sasquatch Attack" from MonsterQuest, they covered a story where a cabin in Northern Ontario had been ransacked during the winter. To prevent it from happening again, the owner placed a board full of screws just outside the front door. Well, it yielded some results because when the owner returned, he found a large, bloody track left on the board. Investigators managed to scrape off a sample of blood and find a hair. The results from the hair were in inconclusive with the morphologist saying it looked like it came off a wild human. And, for the results of the blood sample, they found human DNA, but mixed with a bit of primate DNA.

Is this the answer to all the riddles?

Another thing about Sasquatch is that there are several different kinds of him out there: Bigfoot, Yowie, Yeti, Menk, Grassman, Skunk Ape, Monkey Man, and they all have their own look, build, fur, and sometimes smell. This would suggest a population of Sasquatch, and more than that, this would suggest a diverse population, possibly even different species. And thanks to all of the eyewitness accounts, Bigfoot researchers have come up with a number of different types of Bigfoot meaning there could be different species out there.

These are all pretty terrifying.

Add to all this, Bigfoot is not the only cryptid out there to have different types. Regarding the Dogman, there are seven recognized variants, most of them wolf-like and some of them are the spitting image of an actual werewolf. So, it seems like there are multiple species of Dogman out there. But wouldn't that mean there are Dogmen out in the wild breeding? Well, if you ever listen to the podcast Dogman Encounters Radio, there are stories of Dogman pups. In episode 137, "A Dogman Named Stripes!", investigator Josh Turner interviewed a man who supposedly rescued a pup from his dead mother and raised him. He called him Stripes because of a specific pattern on his chest, and that led to a life-long friendship and a lot of other interesting phenomena. The man who raised Stripes believes he was saved from his burning house by Stripes.

There's no two ways about it:
Dogman is definitely scarier than Bigfoot.

That sounds really unbelievable, but it isn't the only report of Dogman pups. If you read Linda Godfrey's Real Wolfmen, she mentions a sighting in Kentucky, Land Between the Lakes area, where a witness supposedly saw a Dogman female and three pups cross his path through the middle of a forest late one night. (Don't worry. He was in a truck.) And at some point in Linda Godfrey's work, she made an argument for what she calls the "Indigenous Dogman." Unfortunately, I can't find the source, but with it, she discusses the possibility of wolves evolving the ability to stand on two legs and use their front paws like hands.

The Indigenous Dogman
by Godfrey herself.

Let's change gears here and take a look at Lizardman. The most popular theory for Lizardman is that he's some sort of extraterrestrial, but there are some who believe him to be an evolved dinosaur. Dale Russell, a paleontologist, looked at the dinosaur Troodon and its evolution, and noted several interesting changes in its physiology and brain size. He theorized that if Troodon had escaped the Cretaceous extinction, it could have continued evolving into today, and it would resemble a human in its posture, hands, and capabilities.

"Hey, we're related!"
*rawr?*

That does sound a little nutty, but remember the Coelacanth, a fish that showed up 10,000 years after he was supposed to be dead? Looking at some other cryptids, notably lake monsters, some of them look like certain marine dinosaurs, like the Plesiosaur or even the Mosasaurus. Carry that point a little further and I'm sure some of you are familiar with a cryptid known as Mokele-mbembe, the one who stops the flow of rivers, living in the jungles of the Congo. According to reports from the local tribes, they describe a creature not all that dissimilar from an Apatosaurus. What's really interesting, is that if you dig deeper into local legends, you can find other dinosaur-like cryptids such as Mbielu-Mbielu-Mbielu which is supposed to resemble a Stegosaurus.

The One Who Stops the Flow of Rivers

So, it seems like there's a decent argument for cryptids being real animals. Some of them do have roots in our past or even look like animals living today, some of them obviously breed, and for some of them, we have actual blood and hair samples. The evidence seems to point to an undeniable conclusion. For me personally, I don't put much stock into this theory except where Bigfoot is concerned. I think he's real, but not necessarily an animal. I think he's more likely a dead end branch of our own evolution. As for the others, I tend to think of them as being manifestations of our imaginations like I discussed last week--fantasy becoming reality. But, if fantasies can become realities, then what difference is there between a manifestation and a real animal? Both are real, right?

Next week, I'll be looking at another origin theory. This time I'll be investigating the claims that cryptids are extraterrestrials from outer space. If you want to make sure you don't miss it, join my Cryptids and Paranormal mailing list here. See ya next week.

Keep writing, my friends.

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Thursday, September 7, 2017

RWBY Critiques: Volume 5 Blake Character Short

Hey, everyone.

So, in case you missed it, the RWBY Volume 5 Blake Character Short was released on YouTube. I don't know how it went over with the general audience, but there are definitely a couple of Illia weeaboos in RWBY Wonderland now. And, I'm not one of them.

Anyway, I said I was going to do a critique of it for both my YouTube channel and my blog. The critique for YouTube is available here, but fair warning, it kind of sucks. (I don't think I'm going to be doing any more critique videos.) But, the good news is that my blog version is much more comprehensive. So, let's talk about it.




The Character Short starts with Blake and Sun chasing what I assume is a member of the White Fang through the market streets of Menagerie. During the chase, there's a flashback to years ago where Blake asked Illia why she joined the White Fang, and why she chose to fight when she passes for human. Illia launches into a story about how she used to attend a school in Atlas where she hid her Faunus powers and even talked sh*t about the Faunus with her human friends because she claims that she was one of them.

The story takes a turn when Illia and her friends find out about a mining accident where another Faunus was injured: the friends laugh whereas Illia turns blue and starts sobbing. Her friends are suddenly filled with fear, and she breaks their teeth in for some reason. From there, we go back into the present and Blake manages to catch the White Fang member she was chasing, Illia shows up, there's a moment between them where Illia shoots a bunch of crates off a hanging chain to distract Blake, and she makes good her escape along with the other dude. Sun shows up and asks what happened, and Blake apologizes for letting him get away, doesn't tell Sun about Illia, and then becomes awkward herself for some reason.

Damn it, Blake! Stop being so emo!
And this is coming from someone who claims to be a Gothic emo kid
beneath his cool adult exterior.

As you can probably imagine from the way I retold the short, I didn't like it. The fact that it wasn't about Blake irritated me to begin with, but then when I checked in on RWBY Wonderland and found that Illia had some new fans, I wanted to scream.

Does nobody else see Illia for what she is? A hypocrite and a terrorist? Think about it: Illia sh*ts on the Faunus though she is one (that's low), and then says that it was perfectly fine because she identified as one of the girls she went to school with (double low). But then when she hears about how the one Faunus accidentally blew himself up, she reacts differently from her friends. I'm sorry, but I thought she claimed she was one of them. Shouldn't she have laughed, too? And then, after her abilities are revealed and her friends become terrified of her, she ends up beating the sh*t out of them. They were already terrified of her, did she need to beat them?

So, tell me, what exactly is there to like about this girl? I don't get it. It confuses me as much as people who like Cinder, Mercury, Neo, or Adam. All of these people are murderers or, at the least, unnecessarily violent, and some of them have made attempts on the lives of our main cast. So, is there something wrong with the people who like them, or do they not know how this villain thing is supposed to work? Generally, you're not supposed to like villains. I will admit, Heath Ledger is one hell of a Joker and Spehiroth is the biggest pimp dick OG in the world of video game villains, but that doesn't make them likable. Hell, I don't even like the villains I write for my own stories.

Most badass villain ever!

Now, I admit, the above point isn't a criticism on the character short; it's a criticism of the community. So, do I have any actual criticisms of the short itself? Yes.

It seems to me that Kerry and Miles are setting up Illia to be an emotional block or hindrance to Blake, and I'm against that. Not because I think Illia could get Blake to have second thoughts, but because Blake already has at least three emotional blocks and they are all other characters: Sun, Adam, and Yang. By dint of their very existence and the dealings they've had with Blake, they have all inadvertently prevented Blake from taking some course of action or has forced her to retreat along her path. Why is a fourth one being introduced? Blake has enough problems. She likes a boy, but doesn't want him to get too close in case he gets hurt because of her (which has already happened thanks to that bitch Illia), she abandoned her best friend in a great and confusing time of need without explanation, and then she's got a toxic ex-boyfriend who desperately wants to destroy her. Why do we need a former friend getting in there and mixing things up? This is one the biggest problems I have with Blake as character; though it is through no fault of her own (I'm looking at you Kerry and Miles), she is the least developed of the four, she's the most stock out of the four, and all her problems are the same to which she has the same reaction--running away.

Now, I will admit that there was a part during the short that may point to the possibility of Illia's redemption. When she saved whatever-his-name-is from Blake, she aimed her weapon at Blake, Blake gave her the stink eye, Illia gasped and instead shot the crates above Blake to distract her. This moment hints at a few possibilities: 1. Illia isn't over her friendship with Blake and could be converted, 2. Illia is afraid of Blake, or 3. Illia will come to the conclusion that Blake doesn't care about her anymore and that will turn Illia into an even firmer enemy.

I hate you, you bitch!

However, Blake becoming awkward and apologizing unnecessarily afterward tells me that Blake isn't totally over her friendship with Illia, hence the emotional block I mentioned. It also feels like to me that Blake was actually apologizing to Illia for having left, or she was apologizing to Sun for letting Illia stop her when Illia shouldn't have been a problem for Blake.

Any way you slice it, we are most likely doomed to have more emo moments with Blake in Vol. 5, and this time they'll surround Illia. Which means Sun will probably have to try to convince Blake to take action against her, and that may pit Blake and Sun against each other (temporarily). Now, that wouldn't be too terrible so long as it doesn't interfere with story progression. Blake can feel awkward if she wants, but she better continue moving toward the objective of reclaiming the White Fang. Unfortunately, this also means that my prediction from last volume about how all roads lead to Mistral is wrong because it seems like Blake is going to spend another entire volume away from her friends. And I really hope that doesn't mean something is going to happen to Weiss on her journey to Mistral. I'm going to be so pissed if that happens because it means our story may not actually progress in Vol. 5 just like how it seemed to lose steam in Vol. 4.

                                                                      

So, yeah, those are my thoughts on the character short--it sucks and blows. Rooster Teeth should have led with Blake's and then released Weiss'. But this begs the question: will there be a Yang character short? Probably not; there isn't time. Volume 5 drops on October 14th (my mother's birthday by the way), and seeing as how there was more than a month separating the releases of Weiss' short and Blake's short, they can't fit one in about Yang. Besides which, she's practically in Mistral already and I'd be shocked if Yang wasn't in the first episode.

Speaking of Volume 5, I will continue writing these critiques on RWBY, I just may not to the videos anymore, but I will be releasing my critiques a full week after the fact so I don't spoil anything for the YouTube audience. This will also allow me to keep up my weekly segments of RWBY Theory and Speculation. Which means I'll be doing three RWBY posts a week starting October. (Holy crap.) But anyway, that will be it for now. In my next two RWBY Speculation/Theory posts, I'm going to talk about Blake's (fall in) popularity and why I think Sun won't be another Pyrrha. So, be on the lookout for those. Or just sign up for my RWBY mailing list here.

Keep writing, my friends.

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This blog is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

The Top 5 Things I've Learned About Writing Fight Scenes



Let's talk about writing.

So, I'm pretty damn close to self-publishing my first novel Remnants of Chaos: Chaotic Omens. A book that I've been working on for ten years. I sh*t you not. I started writing it back in December 2007. For those of you wondering what it's about, well, the short answer is demon slayers. So, as you may expect, it's on the dark side and has a lot of action. I actually label my book as a Gothic Epic because "action" isn't grandiose enough, and "horror" doesn't really fit. Yes, it's dark, but it's not really scary.

Anyway, when I started ROCCO, I wanted it to be epic and have these great fight scenes in it. As you can imagine from a noob who doesn't have much experience writing, some of my fight scenes dragged on. I also had this notion that all my chapters had to be at least twenty pages when double spaced because I noticed that many of JK's chapters were twenty pages long in the Harry Potter series. Well, that was ridiculous because in print those books are single spaced. But, I digress.

As I got older and wiser, and gave my book to a friend of mine to beta read, some things about the action of ROCCO began to dawn on me, and I would like to pass down these tips to any writers out there interested in writing a fight scene. So, let's get on with it.

1. Highly Detailed Fights are for Film

I love action movies. Films like Underworld, The Matrix, hell, even SuckerPunch. They're just so over the top in their action, incredibly detailed, and so thrilling! However, have you ever imagined what it would be like to read a transcript of a fight scene? Sure, the movements may be epic and fluid, and the characters in the scene are experts of their arts and only a martial arts weeaboo can really wrap his head around how awesome the fight is, but reading how it plays out kind of sucks.

Now, you will need some elementary action description such as "jump kicked," "jabbed and then crossed," or "parried against his enemy's sword with his buckler before following it up with a riposte," but you don't need to break down every little action and reaction; you don't need to detail every attack, counterattack, and then counter to the counterattack. You're not writing a fight manual or an instructional guide for a practitioner. This book is meant to entertain, not teach. You can teach your audience some things like proper technique or terminology if you slip it in quick enough, but remember, it's perfectly acceptable to say, "He gained the upper hand on his enemy, and before delivering the coup de grace, he said, 'blah blah blah.'"

So, leave the fine details of the fight to the film adaptation.

Transcribing this scene would be a bitch!

2. There's a Formula for Writing Fight Scenes

Believe it or not, there is a style or formula that should be adhered to when writing an action scene. Now, this particular tip I get from Jackie Chan. When Jackie Chan ever puts an action or fight scene in one of his movies, there's something they all have in common, and that's that Jackie must overcome an obstacle. Think about it, in many of Jackie Chan's movies, he typically has a handicap of some sort such as he's fighting dozens of baddies, he has to protect someone, or he's using a ladder or bicycle as a weapon. These are all situations that place Jackie at a disadvantage and it's something he has to overcome in order to win. And the great thing about it is that Jackie has been doing this in all of his movies since the very beginning and it's probably one of the reasons why he's so popular and seems so invincible, yet human at the same time.

Think of it like this: I'm sure you're all familiar with how as a story's plot progresses, there's a sequence of rising and falling action. And generally, these smaller challenges are what lead to the big crisis at the climax of the story where the reader will see if the characters have developed enough to evolve as necessary and win in the end. Ergo, as you write, you should think about most fights as an opportunity to show that your characters can change, adapt, and evolve as warriors. Stack the odds against them in some way, and write the scene so that they are able to win using their strengths, or preferably, learning and adapting to new ones.

Takes great skill to be able to fight with a ladder in the first place.

3. Long Action Scenes are Boring

The Battle of the Five Armies from The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies.
It was nowhere near as epic as this in the book. Probably because
it would've been boring as hell to read.

Going back to how super detailed fights should be saved for the cinema, this is another time when you want to leave something to the movie studio. Even if the fight scene isn't super detailed, if all it is, is a fight scene with barely any dialogue, or character or plot development, it's going to be pretty boring. Not to mention, when movie goers think of a long fight scene, they probably think of a scene lasting eight minutes. For a reader, a long fight scene could be a minimum of three pages. Now, that may sound disheartening, but remember, I'm talking pure or mostly action. You don't want it to carry on so readers actually start skipping the hit-by-hit play and just jump to where the dialogue or story picks up again. They could miss something important. So, try to keep unimportant fight scenes short, and give the important ones plenty of breaks. Speaking of which... 

4. Action Scenes Should Have Purpose

If the action in a scene is important or is supposed to be important, then it should have a purpose. What sort of purpose? Well, it needs to reveal character, world, or story detail, or advance the story and/or character development. While there are some of us who love fighting for the sake of fighting, you shouldn't just put an epic fight into your story just because you feel like it. There's a saying in the writing world: if what you're writing doesn't add to the story, don't put it in. Anything's that's pointless will drive your word count up which could piss off your publisher or audience, and it may take away from the rest of the story. Sure, you've got a book 70,000 words long, but a quarter of that is fight scenes for sh*ts and grins. What a rip. Those are words that could have been used adding to the story. So, remember, make most of your fight scenes have a point. The good news is that if your fight scene has a point, you can make it longer and partially disregard point 3.

Try this simple exercise. What can you learn about two characters
when you find out they're women who practice Muay Thai, one of the
most brutal martial arts on the planet?

5. Action Scenes Should Have Impact!

That's a lot of impact!

I'm not talking about story or character impact, I'm talking about impact. Ka-pow! Blam! Boom! If a character punches someone, you don't want to write, "he punched him." No, no. That doesn't have any feel. And it can't be "he punched him hard." Well, no sh*t. If you're going to hit someone, there's a good chance you're going to hit them hard. Now, if your character punched someone softly, that would be different because it's not expected.

So, instead what you need to do is say something like, "he punched him so hard, he was thrown across the room," or "the force of his punch was so incredible that if he hadn't missed, the baddie's head would've gone through the dry wall instead." Another thing to keep in mind is to make sure you use impactful verbs: slash instead of cut, thrust instead of poke, crushed instead of stamped, decked or slugged instead of punch--you know, something with a lot of energy. Make your reader feel the character's pain.

                                                               


So, those are the five most important things I've learned about writing fight scenes from writing about fight scenes. And, you're likely to pick up more as you go along. In fact, if you have any tips or you think there are things I've missed, go ahead and leave your comment below. And, if you want to keep up with all my writing tips and banter, why not sign up to my Let's Talk About Writing mailing list. Everyone who signs up will receive a novel outline template to help you outline your novel.

Keep writing, my friends.

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Tales of Horror Excerpt: Becoming the Dragon

Hey, everyone.

Continuing with the idea of posting excerpts from my book Tales of Horror: Macabre Monsters of Michigan, here's another one, this time from Becoming the Dragon. It's still only $.99 for Kindle and $4.99 for the paperback. Get it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07435BPQR.



And if you want to make sure you don't miss any excerpts or updates on my books, subscribe to my Books and Other Writings mailing list: http://eepurl.com/c0sMdb. And if you're into cryptozoology and the paranormal, why not subscribe to that mailing list so I can keep you apprised of the world of weird: http://eepurl.com/c0sNW5.

Alright, here's the excerpt. It's from my short story Becoming the Dragon. This one is about Elliot Fraser who goes to see a card reader on his birthday. And while she tells him he's destined for greatness, it's not in the way he wants.
“Ariola?! What is it?”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. “Look, I have to be honest with you. The Black Tarot has another name. It’s called… Tarot Draconis, Filius Satanae. It’s Latin for ‘The Tarot of the Dragon.’” Ariola looked at Elliot. “‘The Son of Satan.’”
Elliot was silent for a few seconds. He tried to make words, but his mouth wouldn’t move. Finally, he said, “What? What are you talking about?”
“This tarot was made for the explicit purpose of predicting the coming of the Dragon, the Son of Satan, and to be used by him… during his reign of terror.”

Elliot’s eyes darted back and forth. His mouth was agape. But after a tense ten seconds, he laughed.
Ariola stared at him.
 “Whoo! What a story! I’ve got to tell you, Ariola—er, I mean, Madam Mystique,” he said dramatically again. “This has been quite a night. You really went all out. If my mother was here, she’d say, ‘See, Elliot?! I told you all fortune tellers are evil!’ Then she’d slap me upside the head!” He laughed again. Then rubbed the back of his head and cringed.
“This isn’t a joke! Look!” Ariola stood. “Look at the cards! Do you see what shape they make?”
“Yeah. I saw. It’s a star.”
“You fool! From your perspective that’s what it is, but when you’re where I was sitting, it makes an inverted pentagram!”
“So?”
“It’s the Satanic Star! This is the only spread that can be used with this tarot. I tried using a different spread, but the tarot forced me to use this one!”
Elliot gave her a pitying look. Then he smiled. “You really don’t have to carry on like this. I’m amused. Really, I am.”
“You idiot! Look. Look! The first position, the past, the Fool, carefree ignorance. Describes you perfectly! The second position, the present, the Servant, one who doesn’t know his own will. The third position, the immediate future, the Tower, tragedy. The fifth position, hidden influences, Lucifer! Lucifer! Enlightenment and unholy benediction.”
“How can benediction be unholy?”
“And the final position, the future on the current path, the Dragon! The Dragon! The Son of Satan!”
“And what about the fourth card?”
“Possible future on an opposing path, Death. Either as in change or an actual death.”
Elliot regarded the cards. Eventually, he said, “Okay… so what does it mean?”
Ariola sighed and collapsed into her chair. “It should be pretty obvious.”
Elliot’s eyebrows rose. “You’re saying… I’m the Dragon? I’m the Son of the Devil?!”
“Seems so…”
“Can’t be.”
Ariola shook her head. “What?”
“I’m not a fool and I’m not a servant. I know exactly who I am, what I’m doing, and where I’m going!”
Ariola shook. “Do you?!”
“Yes! I am Elliot Fraser. Thirty-four. Six-foot-three, white male. I’m a computer programmer for Vitech where I just got a promotion because of all the hard work I do, and I live in Clinton Township.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I am the result of all my own choices. They were good choices. The right choices. No one’s controlling me.”
“Really? Tell me: what are your dreams?”
“My dreams?”
“Yes. What’s something you’ve always wanted or wanted to do?”
Elliot thought for a minute. “I’d always wanted my fortune told.”
“That’s pathetic.”
“You talk that way about your own business?”
“You don’t dream of getting a card reading. You get one to make sure you’re on the right path, and if not, then how to change your path. No one aspires to one day sit in the chair opposite me. There must be something else. Anything else.”
Elliot sat down; he was quiet for a while.
“Really?! Nothing?! There’s not anything else in the whole world you want?"
Elliot mumbled a response.
Ariola cocked her head. “Say that again.”
Elliot mumbled louder.
“Did you say, ‘friends?’”
Elliot looked down. “Nobody likes me. And I don’t know why. I’ve tried all my life to be friendly and sociable, but people either ignore me or make fun of me behind my back. They have no respect for me and even make fun of me to my face.”
Elliot put his head on his hand. “In truth though…” he began, “I want it all,” he said with a hungry voice. “Friends, money, power, women… I want everything.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Elliot gave a hopeless shrug. “I’m Elliot Fraser. I’m a thirty-four year old computer programmer for the crummiest company in the industry. I only took the job so that I could be close to my mother so I could take of her. Which I only did because she guilted me into it. Said she would die if I moved out. Add to that, my hobbies are boring, I never do anything I actually enjoy. Women cringe at the sight of me, my bosses think I’m incompetent and a pushover.”
“But you said you got a promotion.”
“Yeah, because I’ve been putting in a lot of work because I haven’t had a weekend off in six months. They thought that since I was there all the time that I could do more work. They gave me a special computer that can access the most important systems and programs, but it’s dull work. Dull, dull, dull!
“My life…” Elliot stopped, but he looked like he was trying to say a word.
Ariola thought it may have started with an “S.” She ventured, “Sucks?”
“Yes! Geez. I’m too scared to even curse.” Elliot rubbed the back of his head again.
“I see,” said Ariola.
Elliot sighed. “This is the first decent conversation I’ve had with a person since… I can’t even remember when.”
Elliot was quiet for a while. He then leaned over the table. He picked up the Fool. “The Fool, huh? Yeah, that sounds like me. I try my damnedest to stay in the dark about how my life actually is because the more I look at it, the less I like it.” He put the Fool down. Then he spun the Dragon around with his finger. “What is the Dragon?”
“He’s the Son of Satan.”
“But what does that mean?”
“The Dragon is pure evil and brings great suffering with him wherever he goes. He makes Hell on Earth.”
“Okay, but what does that actually mean? What evil does he cause?”
Ariola shrugged. “All of it? Rape, murder, theft, human sacrifice. Blasphemy? I don’t know. He’s the ultimate villain.”
“I see.”
Elliot swiveled the card back and forth a little. It made Ariola’s skin crawl.
“Is there any way of confirming that I’m the Dragon?”
“What do you mean? That’s what the tarot was made for. It was made to predict the advent of the Dragon and to be used by him during his conquest.”
“Is that truly what the cards are saying though?”
Ariola looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re a card reader. Is there any way to see further into the future? Or to confirm this?”
“I can draw another card and see if it offers any hints…” Ariola did so and she dropped it next to the Dragon. The image was of a woman in shackles wearing black robes that barely draped around her body leaving her bust exposed. “Huh. The Oracle.”
“What does it mean?”
“It just means ‘future events.’ It’s one of those cards that doesn’t make sense by itself. But, I have no idea what it could mean.” Ariola looked up at Elliot, and the second their eyes met, a shiver went down her spine.
Elliot looked down at the spread, but after a beat, he stood up. “Well, I think I should be going. Mom has to take her pills before she goes to bed, and she’ll beat my ass if I don’t remind her. Good night.” Elliot grabbed his umbrella and disappeared into the storm.
Ariola was alone. She was very confused. It wasn’t every day someone hears that he’s the Devil’s progeny and then just walks off as if they had just been wished a good morning. Elliot had seemed worried and disgusted before, but now, he didn’t seem to care. Why? What made him change his mind so suddenly?
Ariola stared at the Oracle. She really didn’t like it. Somewhere in her mind, she heard glass shattering and a woman screaming. She felt as if something had “arms” around her—they were cold. She felt trapped, abused, and scared. She felt violated, but couldn’t figure out why or in what way.

Friday, September 1, 2017

RWBY: The Novelization: "Yellow" Trailer



A sport motorcycle roared through the city streets of Vale. The street lights made its yellow and orange gradients blaze in the night. Atop the bike was a young girl of seventeen. She accelerated her precious Bumblebee down a straight before braking for a left turn and came to a screeching halt just outside of Junior’s Club, one of Vale’s most popular night spots.
The girl dismounted her bike and took off her yellow helmet and goggles, placing them on the bike before walking up to the club.
As she approached the entrance, a chilly evening wind blew, but it did not chill her for one as hot as her, for one who burned like her, it only served to accent her beauty like a wind spreading a flame. It blew open the lapel of her brown, midriff bearing jacket revealing a low-cut, yellow crop top clinging to her ample bust. The gust also picked up the rear hem of her asymmetrical, brown pleated skirt revealing her black short shorts beneath.
The wind blew harder, and the girl placed a cautionary hand up to the orange scarf wrapped around her neck, but shook her hair out. The wind caught her long tresses kicking up the golden, curly mane before dropping it all the way down to the small of her back.
She stopped in front of the club’s sliding glass doors and examined her reflection with lilac eyes. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to do once she went inside, but she still wanted to look more than presentable. Sure, she was sassy, but there was no reason why she couldn’t turn heads at the same time. After all, she was Yang Xiao Long, huntress-in-training, set to attend Vale’s own Beacon Academy in the spring.
Yang inspected every bit of herself. The only things she touched up were her brown knee-high leather boots, pulling them snugly up. But she didn’t adjust her knee-high orange socks: one was at the knee and the other just above the knee. While scathing eyes may have demanded that she be symmetrical, she preferred the contrast.
Yang tapped the strange metallic wristbands she wore and padded the pouches attached to the belt of her skirt. Everything seemed to be in order. She looked back up at her reflection and smiled. She was going to have fun.
Yang sauntered through the sliding doors into the spacious nightclub converted from an industrial warehouse. She nailed the entrance: her hips wiggled up and down, her back was straight with shoulders pushed back and chest pushed out, and the pièce de résistance was her confident little smirk.
The club was decorated with circular glass pillars here and there, and the patrons had come out in force. The strobes and lasers were in full swing as the DJ, wearing an oversized bear’s head, kept pumping out the jams. By a miraculous coincidence, the song being played was “I Burn,” an electronic beat that was one of Yang’s favorites. She took it as a good sign.
  Yang looked to her left and saw her quarry, the owner of Junior’s Nightclub, Junior himself. He was at the bar talking to a man dressed in a long white coat with a black bowler and cane. Whatever business they were conducting was concluded as Yang approached. The man in the coat seemed fairly pleased as he strode off, but Junior’s mood seemed to have taken a dark turn. He leaned his arms on the bar next to two of his employees, the club’s eye candy, the Malachite twins, Miltiades and Melanie. Both wore the same strapless dress with the exception that Miltia wore it in red and Melanie wore it in white.
Yang approached the bar and slyly came to a stop right next to Junior. She saw him dismiss the Malachite sisters out of the corner of her eye. Yang couldn’t stop herself from marveling at how tall he was. She barely came up to his shoulders, and even then, it was only the cowlick on top of her head.
“Strawberry Sunrise,” said Yang to the bartender, acting casual. “No ice. Oh, and one of those little umbrellas.”
Junior took the bait.
“Aren’t you a little young to be in this club, Blondie?”
Yang turned and giggled. “Aren’t you a little old to have a name like ‘Junior?’”
“So, you know who I am. Ya got a name, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Junior. I’ve got several. But instead of sweetheart,” she said, dragging her finger down his arm in a vampish manner, “you can just call me ‘sir!’” she said, her hand grabbing onto Junior somewhere below the belt causing him to squeal in painful surprise.
This was the part Yang hadn’t planned, but it served her purpose. “People say you know everything.” She pulled out her iScroll and an image of a raven haired woman with red eyes came up on the screen. “Tell me where I can find her, and I’ll let you go.”
“I’ve never seen before!” said Junior in a high voice. “I swear!”
Yang squeezed harder. “Excuse me!”
“I swear! Sir!”
A number of Junior’s men, employees or henchmen, depending on the day, ran up to the bar. They were all dressed in the same tacky black suit with matching red ties and sunglasses. Each had a black bowler, and they all wielded either a small axe or short curved sword with a red blade.
“Hmm,” said Yang unfazed. “Looks like we have an audience. This must be kind of embarrassing for you, huh? Awkward.”
“Listen, Blondie! Sir!” Junior quickly added. “If you want to make it out of this club alive, I suggest you let me go. Now!”
Yang got what she needed from him, so she did as Junior said and pocketed her scroll.
Junior let out a sigh of relief. “You’ll pay for that,” he managed in his regular voice. He began to limp away and tried to save some face by donning his own red sunglasses.
Yang quickly ran after him onto the dance floor. “Oh, Junior. I was just playing with you. Don’t be so sensitive. C’mon. Let’s kiss and make up, okay?”
“Huh?!”
Yang made a flirty giggle and bent at the hip showing off her cleavage and puckering up.
“Uh… okay.” He bent forward.
Just as their lips were about to touch, Yang threw her fist forward and sent Junior flying back across the entirety of the club smashing through several glass pillars. He crashed into the wall next to the entrance and was in a daze. The patrons on the dance floor panicked and ran.
Junior’s men charged at Yang and her bracelets expanded into dual-ranged shot-gauntlets covering her entire lower arms and hands. Each gauntlet had twelve rounds of Dust ammo. Yang brought one arm forcefully back and the shotgun-like pump moved back chambering a round.
Junior’s men raised their weapons as they got close, but Yang jumped high into the air. At the apex, she waited for gravity to pull her down and she smiled feeling like a hawk looking down at its prey. The song playing in the club reached her favorite lyric, “Yellow beauty burns… gold.”
Oh, yes. This was going to be fun.
Yang crashed into the dance floor and her gauntlet went off. There was a fiery blast from the barrel at the end of her fist and it exploded outward throwing all of Junior’s men back several feet.  She ran at a group of them as they recovered and succeeded in knocking them all out with a combination of well practiced punches accentuated by Dust discharges from her gauntlets.
The next group was some distance away and Yang decided to show off another one of her techniques. She locked her arm and shoulder in place and fired her gauntlet. The force of the discharge sent her backward at incredible speed and her elbow went straight into the stomach of a henchman. Yang showed off this capability again by using the shot from the gauntlet to spin herself around unbelievably fast and kicked another. A third ran up and Yang lambasted him with a series of punches firing her gauntlets each time.
Suddenly, machine gun fire lit up the floor around her. The DJ was still up in his booth and was armed with a gun, the Vale Typewriter. Yang charged and used her gauntlets to give her a boost of speed. She jumped into the booth, kicked the DJ disarming him, smashed his head into the turntables, and then threw him out of the booth giving him a final blast from both gauntlets. He landed unconscious on the dance floor, his giant novelty bear head rolling away.
Yang turned her attention back to the dance floor and saw the Malachite sisters standing there. Miltia had a pair of curved metal claws extending from her fists and Melanie was wearing a pair of weaponized high heels.
“Melanie,” said Miltia in a blasé voice, “who is this girl?”
“I don’t know, Miltia,” replied Melanie in the same tone. Then in a slightly darker one, “Let’s teach her a lesson.”
Yang grinned at the new challengers. She ejected the spent dust shells from her gauntlets, threw strips of red shells into the air and caught them in her shot gauntlets. She jumped from the DJ booth and shot her gauntlets while still flying. This time, a projectile was fired from them that exploded on contact.
Melanie and Miltia dodged the first salvo. They attacked Yang when she landed, and proved to be worthy adversaries. Melanie managed to cut two of Yang’s projectiles in half deflecting them elsewhere.
The twins charged together and managed to beat Yang back. But Yang used her gauntlets to charge back into the thick of things and knocked Melanie away with a point blank blasting punch. On her own, Miltia was a poor opponent being easily countered with an uppercut to the gut and another to the head. She was sent flying and crashed into a glass pillar.
Yang went after Melanie next, but found her much more resourceful. Melanie was a master of kicks and could cut Yang’s projectiles from up close. Melanie gained the upper hand and kicked Yang back.
Yang glowered; she wasn’t having fun right now. This girl was very skilled and it was to Yang’s slight shame that she wasn’t as good at kicking as she was at punching. She’d need a new tactic.
Melanie rushed in, but didn’t attack immediately. Instead, she played a game of footsies; Melanie teased and taunted Yang with feints to her legs and even just raised her knees to see what Yang would do.
Yang kept retreating, but when Melanie showed her back for a spinning kick, Yang dodged under it, and elbowed her in the stomach. Melanie’s equilibrium gone, she was an easy target as Yang grabbed her by the wrist, led her around in a circle around herself, and then Yang finished her off with a kick of her own straight to the face. Melanie fell in defeat.
Yang looked around waiting for her next combatant. He showed up a second later as none other than Junior himself, this time equipped with a bazooka.
“You’re gonna pay for this!”
Junior shot the bazooka and the missile split into multiple smaller projectiles. Yang jumped back dodging them, and then rolled forward through the explosion they caused. Junior fired a second time and a second time, the missile split. But this time, Yang shot her gauntlets at the projectiles destroying any that came near her.
Junior transformed the bazooka into a large metal bat and leapt at Yang. She took a defensive posture and while she blocked Junior’s hits, she still took three of them from the bat directly.
Junior spun around and hit her a fourth time that she wasn’t expecting and was knocked back significantly into a glass stage that shattered.
Yang got up and giggled with a smile. Junior was put off slightly by her confidence and noticed a strange flame-like aura coming from her hair. She was going to show him her secret weapon, her Semblance.
Yang summoned the power she had suffered in the fight into her fists and charged.
Junior shot the bazooka again, but Yang dodged it and went into a punch chain. It was fast, furious, and combined with her shot gauntlets, was quite painful. Yang took a step forward and threw everything she had into a final cross. Junior, before being hit, got to see Yang’s soft lilac eyes change to a ferocious red.
Junior was knocked back several feet. He looked at his bazooka—it had been broken in half. But then he looked at his other hand and saw several gold strands in it. He looked at Yang and smiled.
Yang clenched her fists and her tendons snapped. It had all been fun and games. But now… now it was personal.
Yang released her aura to its furthest extent and a flame seemed to burst outwardly from her filling the entire club. She ran forward yelling a battle cry at the top of her lungs and Junior felt a mind-numbing, leg-paralyzing, bladder-emptying fear.
The last punch connected and there was an explosion. All the windows in the club shattered and Junior was thrown out of one landing outside in the street. Yang quickly followed jumping out of the window and landing on her feet behind him.
“Yang?” said a voice. “Is that you?”
Yang looked up and saw a girl wearing a black combat skirt matched with a red riding hood and cloak. “Oh! Hey, sis!”
“What’re you doing here?” asked Ruby.
Yang sighed. “It’s a long story.”


RWBY: The Novelization is not endorsed by Rooster Teeth in any way. Views, opinions, and thoughts are all my own. Rooster Teeth and RWBY are trade names or registered trademarks of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. © Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC.

Crypto Theory: Are Cryptids Manifestations of Imagination?

Hey, everyone.

I'm back with another theory on the origin and species of cryptids, and as I mentioned last week, I believe this is most likely the answer for many of the cryptids we see. And it is...


That's right, manifestations of our imaginations. Or, to put it another way, psychokinetic (PK) manifestations. But that begs the necessary question: what is a PK manifestation? Well, have you ever heard of the Law of Attraction? The idea that you attract into your life whatever you focus most on? It's sort of like that. A PK manifestation is where your thoughts and feelings coalesce either into an entity or activity surrounding you. Generally, this is what most poltergeist activity is, but PK manifestations can become spirit-like, and in some rare reports, they can actually be 100% physical.

Going back to Three Men Seeking Monsters (seriously, buy this book), in chapter 9, when Redfern, Downes, and Freeman meet Mother Sarah Graymalkin, the old witch who told them about the Cormons (if you need a refresher, read my first post here), she explains that the reason why cryptids exist is because of our belief.

"They coexist with us because we want them to exist with us and for no other reason."

The witch then goes on to explain Tulpas which are entities that attain "a form of reality after being created solely in the imagination." According to Graymalkin, it takes an incredible amount of skill to bring these things into reality, but the real problem is when a Tulpa succeeds in crossing into reality of it's own volition and works against its creator's will. As proof, Graymalkin sites the works of spiritualist Alexandra David-Neel who created a Buddhist monk that went rogue and Polish medium Franek Kluski who had spectral animals of all sorts appear during his séances.

One such animal was a large cat.

It is at this point that Graymalkin goes into Cormons, but later she adds how they feed off emotion, especially the emotion of those who believe in them.

"You don't realize that while you are looking for these things, believing in them and telling others about them who also become emotionally charged believers, they are manipulating you and your followers as their food source. That is all you are: a source of emotional food for the beasts."

Graymalkin goes into even greater detail, but I don't want to ruin it for you. But basically what she's on about is that cryptids exist because we want them to exist and we put forth the emotional effort and energy into believing in them. An idea I can't help but link to the Native American belief of how talking about shapeshifters can actually "bring them on" as mentioned by Potawatomi member John Warren in the MonsterQuest episode "America's Wolfman."

The Native American Skinwalker or Shapeshifter

So, basically, my theory is that the Dogman and a number of other cryptids including the Lizardman, Jersey Devil, and lake monsters are actually created through fictional stories. And, as time has passed, the stories have gone on. As a result, they've made to the modern day where we have books, movies, and podcasts that help spread belief in strange creatures. So, cryptids are being seen more and more because belief, time, emotion, and energy are being put into them, meaning we are actually the reason for their existence. Sort of makes you wonder why there's a part of the human psyche that wants to believe in monsters. But, it's a good thing no one puts serious belief into dragons. Home owner's insurance would be astronomical.

Anyway, next week I'll be looking into another theory for the existence to cryptids. This time, I'm going to muse on the possibility that cryptids are real flesh and blood creatures. If you want to make sure you don't miss it, consider subscribing to my cryptid and paranormal mailing list here. I'd really appreciate it.

Keep writing, my friends.

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Can You Pigeonhole Yourself through MBTI?

So, here’s a question for all you MBTI nerds: do you fear that knowing your personality type will pigeonhole you into acting a certain...