A Grimm Tale (SI / RWBY)
Tags: Why am I doing this to myself, RWBY, SI, Going Insane, Beowulf life, Madness is relative, That looks tasty
Welp... so it's finally come to this then has it? Well here we go then…

Part: 01 ***

I groaned into my mercifully cool pillow and batted a hand back at the light tickling sensation in my ear. "Furgoff Tighler," Well I know I said that aloud, but all I heard was a muffled growl. Not the 'I am displeased' rumble that I was familiar with from FatFat or MurderBeast, but something rather more canine- had Nick finally brought his dog into the house? Poor big ol' puppy, having to be left in the truck whenever his daddy stopped by, never able to get any attention.

Reaching out to give the black lab some ear scratches I cracked an eye and- hmm? I flicked my one eyed gaze across the towering green trees, mossy rocks, and grassy forest floor before I narrowed my focus onto my outstretched arm. It was black. Not 'black' as in my arm was now dark skinned. But/No, BLACK. As in black like a crude oil spill. My gaze took in the thick, coarse looking fur that covered my arm before snapping to the series of thick bone spurs the jutted backward out of my forearm like a sawblade. Starkly white against the black, the bone spurs had a rough texture, and thin layers like flaking shale.

I looked to my hand, seeing thick talons just like the bone spurs protruding out of my fingers. I clenched/made a fist and flexed my fingers. Checking that it was actually my hand. Then did it again to double check. Wiggling my fingers to triple it, and finally flexing the digits until they arced back a little and shook to be extra extra sure so I couldn't deny that this was my hand.

I stared at it for a few moments more before sitting up and staring at the soft looking pads of my fur covered palm as I started clenching my hand. It felt right, as much as a hand should feel like/like it should have- But what the actual fucking hell was this crap. Seriously, this was checking all the stereotypical body swap boxes- which was impossible!

I couldn't help it, I trembled a little as the situation sank in a little and put a crack in my self control. I hadn't lost control like this since- those had been extenuating circumstances- AND THIS WASN'T?!

Recognising that I was rapidly approaching the threshold of a panic attack, I desperately I tried to get a hold of myself. Regain my usual stoicism, be logical, do anything but have a breakdown.

I couldn't- but- I drew in a shaky breath. Just keep repressing, just keep repressing, just keep repress~ess~ess~ess~ing- channeling Dorry didn't help one-goddamn-bit.

The compounded stress I'd been feeling over my exams. Depression at having to watch Mom do her best to drink and smoke herself to death because I couldn't afford my own place. The increasingly hopeless sense of despair stemming from knowing enough to recognise that the country and world were turning into an increasingly out of control dumpster fire. And who the fuck knew what else leaked out.

Just a fraction of my pent up issues escaped the little box that I crammed it all into and sent my chest into convulsions. It wasn't a full blown episode, but I had no doubt that I was well on my way to a psychotic break if I fully snapped.

Almost detached from my breakdown, I absently recognized that the way my chest was convulsing made me think that whatever came out was going to sound rather crazed, and not a little unhinged… my stomach dropped out of my stomach though when it came out as a chuffing bark and the shock snapped me out of it.

And I was a mute. Wonderful.

This just didn't- I mean I liked SI stories, at least to an extent that my suspension of disbelief could handle. But this, if this was indeed what it was unless it was or some distorted form of reincarnation or punishment or...

I curled my toes and- Oh, and my toes were feeling a little off. Looking back I saw more bone spurs, and more black fur covering a pair of considerably thicker than human digitigrade style legs rather than the plantigrade that I'd had, oh, my entire life. A muscle movement, not unlike a spasm, in my lower back and a length of bushy black fur flicked up momentarily before flopping back down. I felt that, and now that I knew about it I noticed I could feel the shape of the ground behind me... I had a tail.

I sighed a sigh that came out as a raspy chuff; exhaustion shrouding me and sinking into my limbs like a leaden blanket as I ran my hand along the patch of grass I was sitting on on. Absently, I dug my taloned digits deep into the damp earth, just pushing them down into the dirt with the slightest effort and tearing out out a sizable clod before it fell apart into several chunks. Dumping the loose dirt, I grabbed at and started and squeezing at my trapezius, the nervous tic only giving me the barest level of comfort that it usually did.

Fuck my fucking life this was fucking bullshit. No, correction, fuck this fucking fucked up bullshit.

Idly, I ran my off hand across my chest, through the shaggy fur and along the grooves of the well defined musculature beneath.

So... what, was I a Lycan or some kind of Werewolf now? Or a Worgen- I shivered at the thought as I rubbed a lock of fur between the pads on my fingers. To hell with being a Worgen. Azeroth? Yeah, there were some safe spots but that whole world was an all around nope thanks to the Legion. No thank you. That was one universe pretty much on par with getting dumped into 40K. Just on a smaller scale with far fewer rocks to hide under.

If I really was in either of those places... then I think I was going to be seriously considering something drastic and save myself the almost certain agony of being murdered sooner rather than later.

But... none of those options felt quite right, the bone spurs nagged at something I really should have been able remember. It was on the tip of my tongue. What I was now, the name started with a B. I knew it, but I must have been really brain farting because no matter which way I came at it I couldn't remember the name.

A burst of cracking reports suddenly began echoing through the trees around me and I cocked my head, listening for the direction of the sound. If it had been one report, I could have assumed it had been a large branch that snapped. But I knew better. It had been some time since I'd gone shooting with the crew but I knew what a sub machine gun being fired on full auto sounded like when I heard it.

A low growling, shifting leaves, and breaking twigs from nearby made the hair on my neck stand on end and the addition of wet sniffling made me snap my head around and watch; realization dawning on me as to what I was as a dark furred shape clambered up onto a fallen tree trunk. Malicious red eyes glowed bright like embers in a bone mask embellished with curving red markings, bone spurs rose up along the top of its spine like a skinless fin with others popping out all across its body- and along it its arms, just like mine.

The Beowulf threw its head back and howled. The sound resonated in my chest, in my bones- reverberating through and around me as it echoed between the trees until it was picked up and answered by calls from the other Grimm in the area until it culminated in a call for blood and death.

I stared, still and silent, as I watched the Grimm rush through the trees toward the source of the gunfire; moving only once the hoard of black, white and blazing eyed monsters were completely gone and explosions had joined the gunfire that tore through the forest as the Grimm threw themselves against whoever was out there. Hesitantly I reached up and felt at my face, feeling the hard bone of the characteristic Grimm mask under my talons for a moment before going back to kneading my trapezius.

So I was in that Death World. Well… shit.

I was a Beowulf… I was a Beowulf in the RWBY 'Verse. That... actually that wasn't all that bad all things considered. I was bipedal, had thumbs and was probably pretty damn strong from the feats I'd seen the pull in canon. Not that bad a package... except, of course, the issue that I was pretty much a kill on sight target for just about every sentient being on the planet.

Well, with an almost singular exemption and more than a few additions. I would have put money on most if not all Atlas robots being programmed to shoot Grimm on sight; and that Salem woman thing sure as hell counted as sentient- or at least highly intelligent if she was really a Grimm considering she was almost certainly the big bad of the story which I'd found myself a part of... a story that wasn't even finished or all that fleshed out.

Chucking sardonically- which came out as rough chuffing -I continued absently heading in the direction of the gunfire and explosions. Was what I was doing smart? Well I'll return to my previous observation about Remnant's population to answer that. But then again that was rather the point, wasn't it.

Not as if there was anything else for me to do. I'd tried to other methods- counting, poking my palm, flying. All had checked out, so unless this was all actually real- I chuckled a little

Couldn't believe I'd almost had a break down over thinking that. Really becoming an SI in something I came up with unconsciously… Normally I'd have enjoyed such a realistic world and exploring what my unconscious mind had pulled out its ass. Infact, I'd have loved it, getting out into the wilderness- even if it was fake -after not being able to go camping for years? Awesome. But not this time, this place… it was a bit too much. Hell, I'd almost thought it had all been real for a moment. A bit too close to nightmare territory for comfort, and those never turned out well no matter how they started.

So that pretty much left the nuclear method to get out of here.

Now hopefully whoever was out there would be good enough to help me end myself and not be some of those weaksauce Atlas Mechs. Otherwise… well I really wasn't up to a hyper realistic deathworld like Remnant when I could be in here for who knows how long. Better to just get it done with instead of living in here with the constant fear of what happens next. And that wasn't even taking into account whatever likely hellish pot of gold was at the end of Salem's rainbow.

No this… this was the best thing I could do.

Stepping over a gentle brook cutting through the forest, I paused to stare at the distorted reflection in the water and get my first look at... well, myself. Not much to look at that I hadn't already seen from the other Beowulf's though. I was tall, lanky but thick at the shoulders, black, and had a bunch of those stupid bone spurs growing out of my body. I was a Beowulf, the Creature of Grimm equivalent of a Slime Mob. Lowest of the low. Cannon Fodder.

Cocking my head, I looked down at my reflection- ignoring how it made me look -and stared at my luminous eyes before following the oddly graceful markings that curved out from my eyes and cut through the white of my mask. Rather than the burning ember red of a normal Grimm's, mine were the cool greyish blue color that my eyes had been and the color was reflected in the markings.

Curious, maybe the coloration was a reflection of the soul? Them being the window to the soul and all that.

Although that raised the question, if I did have a soul in here- no, what am I talking about if. This was supposed to be Remnant, where a good chunk of the populous used their souls to kill stuff and cause massive amounts of destruction. In canon they knew souls existed and could even rip someone's out with the proper application magi-tech and what was likely an exorbitant amount of money. So it wasn't a question if you had a soul or not if I was on Remnant. Except, of course, if you were a Grimm.

So then, presuming I did have a soul, then why weren't the Grimm on me like white on rice? Did I just arbitrarily not count like animals did? If I had a soul, then did that mean I could have an Aura? Did I have an Aura? Would an Aura even work since I was in the body of Grimm? If, Why, How; anything was possible, but those were the kind of questions that didn't really matter. And wouldn't matter soon enough.

Hearing a glee filled jeer followed immediately by an explosion I shook my head and continued on toward the fighting. Following the paths of broken branches and disturbed soil left by the other Grimm- other Grimm… was I really accepting this already? No, but it was technically the proper terminology for this… and now I was getting technical, just even more reason for doing it this way. I slouched a little in preparation of shifting into a loping run as I slipped through the trees and shrubbery; stopping just at the edge of the moderately sized clearing where the eternal battle between monster and man was being acted out.

Grimm were everywhere, both dead and dissipating into black smoke, and alive and attacking. And at the center of the mess, two slight figures bouncing around like pinballs with the visibly thinning hoard of Grimm acting like bumpers.

Both were dressed in loose fitting clothes, done up in earthy tones. With one in darker greens and browns that was dealing out bursts of mid range fire from a machine-pistol while mixing in some sort of martial arts to devastating effect on the Grimm. The other was on the lighter side of the spectrum, with a bit of pinkish peach mixed in with light tan and was going to town with what looked like… I narrowed my eyes in concentration as they twisted and a glint of silver flashed in the sun... Was that a hammer?

A high pitched cackle rang across the clearing once more and I concentrated on the the light colored source as it clambered onto the back of a Beowulf like a howler monkey and started choking it out with the long haft of a silver warhammer. All the while laughing a demented sounding witch's cackle even as the Grimm tried to throw... them… off…

...Wait.

The mounted Beowulf flailed. Swinging its long arms wide in its attempts to get at the rider on its back but they simply evaded the swings- the other Grimm that had been in range of its arms on the other hand- mostly other Beowulf's -weren't so quick.

Those colors, that cackle, riding a Grimm- the hammer.

...No.

Of all the people I could have encountered first it's these two? I snapped my attention onto the green figure; watching as they ducked low to dash in and slash at the ankles of an Ursa Minor in order to bring it down. With the bulky Grimm now crippled, the green figure kicked off from the ground before ricocheting off the head of a Beowulf hard enough that they snapped the monster's head back and decapitated the downed Ursa on their way past.

Crossing my arms, I momentarily forgot my plan and put my shoulder against the tree; taking a moment to watch as the duo ground through the Grimm that had by now stopped trickling in. They were like a well oiled machine together. Synchronized and covering each other without communicating- even if they were yards apart. And the entire time they keep the center of the clearing clear of the enemy in case they had to fall back or draw a Grimm in.

Ren and Nora, the chances of that were simply… well astronomical was the best word. Though Ludicrous worked just as well, as not even the all present Schwartz could have predicted this.

From the looks of their figures and clothes they weren't in Beacon quite yet, but were maybe a few years off at most. Not that I was 100% on that though since they barely stopped moving and I was a good ways away, but going by the size of the Grimm around them I was pretty sure they were shorter than the character height chart put them at. Not by much, but enough for it to be noticeable.

Despite appearing to be younger than in canon though they were good. Very good.

That… was probably enough observation though. I stood a little taller and prepared to enter the fray… hopefully, if I gave them a good opening, they were good enough to get it done in one hit. They should be able to, I was just a Beowulf afterall. But even if they couldn't, at least it would ultimately be a momentary bit of pain- if Grimm could even feel pain -would be better than looking over my shoulder for the years on end. That had only happened once before and a long time ago… but still.

I pushed away from the tree and- a car horn blaring over my lecture recording -my backward facing knees buckled and I fell forward- turning around in my seat to flip off whatever asshole -I reached out on instinct to catch myself as the ground rushed up- the old buick barreling through the intersection -my talons dug into the soil and I felt a series of heavy reverberations.

A tendril of dread curled around my insides, slowly squeezing them in a vice. No… Nonononono. If that really was- then this wasn't- that couldn't have been how I-

A deafening roar that eclipsed the calls of the other Grimm; The gleeful cackle turning into a surprised cry of pain; An anguished shout of, "Nora!"

Looking up I saw the light toned figure- Nora - be backhanded off her mount by a towering Beowulf Alpha that had gotten into the center and sent her flying across the clearing before she came to a sudden and immediate stop after hitting a boulder with a sharp crack. Her hammer having been sent flying along the way, the towering Grimm advanced on her while she lay stunned. Ren tried to divert but the other, lesser Grimm, sensed the opening and swarmed him en-masse

It hit me as thoroughly as that buick had. Nora, with how small she is- no, even if this is just before they entered beacon, she was still just a child. Some, most really, would have called it patronizing, but that didn't change the fact that that was still what they were. At least in my eyes.

Something twisted in my gut and I kicked off. Here I was, trying to throw away my second chance over a delusion; and there she was, a child, fighting for her life. What kind of despicable piece of shit am I that I'm about to throw it away. To take the easy way out.

I snatched up the hammer as I passed it by; not quite seamlessly transitioning from moving as a quadruped to a biped but forced through my stumble and pushed my new body to close the distance between Nora and I before the Apha could reach her.

I skidded to a stop at the boulder. Nearly loosing my footing as I decelerated and had to use my free hand to slow down; my talons raking deep gouges through the soil. It worked though, and throwing Nora over my shoulder, I began moving. Fortunately, my momentum hadn't been put to waste and I pirouetted on my toes as the Alpha loomed.

The Hysteria; The Stress, The soul crushing Despair- oh it was all still there, just held momentarily at bay by my desperate hold on the delusion of a lucid dream. Now though, it was all coming out whether I wanted it or not. But instead of bottling it up, I vented. I took all of that high blood pressure inducing self destructiveness and channeled it into something else, something constructive. So following the Immortal words of Cave Johnson: I Got MAD!

In my excitement and bloodlust, my maw slipped agape and my teeth glinted as I loosed a roaring battle cry and brought the hammer up in an underhand swing that smashed into the Alpha Beowulf's bone plated jaw with a thunderous crack! ***

...I'm afraid that little sleep and caffeine continues to be a source of yet more distractions.
Also massive thanks go to Ziel for betaing this for me and Shadenight123 for reminding me of some basic writing principles that I'd forgotten. If any of you haven't, you should really go check out his crack… ah, uh, I mean fics. Yeah, his fics.
Note: also Im a gen1 grimm. Not liking the new versions too much(espescially for my chances at civil interation in this) so Im thinking there is going to be bit of speciation going on with them.
Note: Also if any of you could let me know what you thought that'd be awesome. Been a while since I started writing consistently and still getting back into the swing of things. (no need to be gentle or anything though if you let me know what you thought)