The Return of the Ancient( Warhammer X Rwby)

Chapter 1: Arrival

Ancient Rylanor ... 250 years of distinguished service for Terra. 50 in the unification wars and 200 in the great crusade ... countless months in Istvaan III and now his ultimate battle against HIM. However, he sensed something peculiar: his continued existence.

His final memories were of the thousand son sorcerer, Vistario by name, betraying his own comrades and allowing the virus bomb to detonate. Yet the venerable warrior believed that death would finally claim him and the monstrosity he once called father. For Fulgrim had ripped him from his sarcophagus, the life eater virus should have claimed him as well. but evidently not..

A sombre realisation dawned on Rylanor. Was he buried beneath the rubble? Beneath the rumble. With his damaged life support, death by exposure would soon claim him. He exhaled and-

For a moment that felt like an eternity, his mind halted and entered a state of shock: he exhaled? HE EXHALED?! Then another breath came... air, actual air into his lungs, a sensation that had become unfamiliar to him. Rylanor felt his lungs expand as he opened his eyes. His real eyes. The pair of piercing cerulean eyes opened and adjusted quickly to the darkness. Despite the complete absence of light in his surroundings, his vision was able to perceive a clear outline. Stone, a cavern he found himself in, with stalagmites hanging from the ceiling. His mind began to rationalise what was happening. Rylanor had either succumbed to insanity, imagining the entire battle against Fulgrim...or this was real

The air was...moist. The humidity filled the cave of insipid stone. This was not Istvaan, for the life eater virus consumes even the atmosphere. Rylanor looked down at his own body. He saw the outline of his form. Well sculpted as any Astartes should be...yet with new scars that deformed his flesh. New ones that he did not remember...or perhaps had forgotten through the ages. Yet a sting accompanied them. What caught his attention was the predicament, his right leg simply was not present.

The vague outline of his right leg ended around what he believed to be his upper thigh. This form of his appears to have damage similar to that of his former metallic shell.

To further test this theory...he attempted to 'activate' the assault cannon. Yet nothing happened. His left arm was a stump, but this time only up to the elbow, where Fulgrim tore the Kheres assault cannon from his arm. It was a theory. Yet if this is truly reality and not the last remnants of his crumbling sanity, then he shall press on

The movement was quite rough. He stumbled and fell, yet strangely enjoyed it, by his sense of touch had returned . Despite the pain of the new scars, there was an odd satisfaction in feeling his muscles in motion. Each time he tumbled, he could sense the stony ground beneath him, tracing its surface and feeling the moisture that covered it. The rough texture of it all was a stark contrast to the artificial sensation of a dreadnought, making it a true marvel. Ryalnor couldn't help but feel a grin forming on his face, despite his best efforts at self-control. Eventually, Rylanor managed to rise to his feet, using the wall of the cavern for support. The stone was rough and occasionally sharp, but he paid it no mind. He had no idea how long he had been in the cave until he found an exit...but at that moment, he simply didn't care. The time spent in that environment, regaining his senses and feeling alive, was a rather pleasant sensation to experience

The cavern's system was extensive, but eventually gave way to a beam of light. Rylanor's piercing cerulean eyes took a moment to adjust to the incoming light. When he finally emerged, he beheld a picturesque scene: a sea of trees stretched out as far as the eye could see, undulating like waves, occasionally rising up as the towering pines took root on the occasional hill. Looking down, the mountain he stood on seemed... insignificant compared to the other marvels he had witnessed in his lengthy life. As the light bathed his figure, he was able to more accurately assess his condition. His skin was the same as it was before, pale like milk and at times resembling snow. All members of the third legion suffer from a degree of albinism, and Rylanor was already a bit pale before joining the third legion, being a son of Albia. Rylanor let out a sigh of relief as the black carapace still remained, at least most of it. He made a mental note to cover himself, but it felt strange not having any armour encasing his body. He wanted to see his face, but now was not the time...though he realised he was currently lacking any hair...good, he wouldn't resemble that monster