The Knights of Grimm - Act 4 - Whispers of Arkhonex

Chapter 8 - Return to the Marshlands

Qrow

"Are you ready?" The voice of Kragen Nox asks the Branwen Brother, feeling his heart pounding heavily. Going back to the Witches of the Restless Marshlands is extremely dangerous, they may have helped them but there is no guarantee that they will repeat the offer. The Witches are unpredictable and have been known to kill people as soon as they enter their lands. Qrow knows how dangerous the Undertakers can be, since one nearly killed him in the past.

But at the same time – Kragen, Yenna and the Architect are all Arkhoni; henceforth there is the chance that they may listen to what they have to offer.

Arkhoni to Arkhoni.

That is, of course, if there is no bad blood between the Spring Maiden, the Architect and the Silver Eyed Warrior. Qrow finishes sharpening the blade of his sword and scythe crossbreed with the whetstone that his sister had lent him. He sighs as he concludes the session of sharpening the blade, standing up with the sword in his grasp. "Yeah...let's hope that the Witches are seeing visitors today." He says as he sheathes his sword onto his belt.

"We will teleport outside of the swamp; chances are high that the Knights' Bannermen will pursue us when they sense the pulse." The Architect warns, loading a fresh power cell into his rifle as he holds it in one hand, whereas Yenna walks over to them with her hands clenched into fists. Ready to battle against whatever waits for them beyond the doorway.

"I hope that they will listen to us, they are our last hope." Yenna states.

"They let you go, and they hide from Umbra. This plague will destroy the entire ecosystem if we do not stop it. This is in their best interests too." Qrow states as he stands in the room with the three other members going with him. However despite bringing up this very valid point, Yenna shows signs of discomfort.

"We have not seen signs of this plague infecting the natural wildlife, Qrow. They do not care about Humanity or the Faunus. They just want to look out for the natural world." She reminds.

"Well – they best remember that if Umbra wins then everything dies. Their beloved Mother Nature included." Qrow states, sounding pretty stern as well.

"Be on guard, they will have their sentries in the Swamp, awaiting command. And you do not want to get in a fight with an Undertaker – they are extremely dangerous." Kragen reminds, and Qrow scoffs, touching the scar on his chest where the feral Undertaker had struck him with its shovel. The same wound that was infected when he passed out in the swamp and nearly died, if not for the Witches' Undertaker that retrieved them and brought them to the sisters for them to cure him.

"Trust me, I know." Qrow assures, pressing his fingers to where the scar is, remembering the roar it made and the pain that flushed across his body when that sharp shovel made its mark on him.

"The Witches of the Restless Marshlands claim to be women of their word, so let us pray that they have not changed their minds." The Architect says, standing ready.

"Okay...open the portal, Architect." Qrow says to him with a nod, and the mechanical man does the same in reply. Electrical energy channels through the chassis of his body and he holds his hand out, blasting bolt of energy towards the open space. It pulsates and rips a hole in space time, allowing them to walk straight through and access the edge of the swamp. Qrow walks through first, but before he does he looks back to the others in the room – Ozpin and Glynda to be exact. "We'll be back, with the Witches."

"How do you know?" Glynda asks.

"Because if they don't then we either come back without them...or we don't come back at all." He says, hinting that they will either kill the Witches or be killed by them. Time will tell what will happen next, and Qrow walks through the doorway that leads to the Infamous Restless Marshlands. He steps out, and the stench of the countryside returns with it as he looks around, the scent of manure fills the air along with decaying animals.