Ch3: Block, using competent supporting characters!

Basalin hummed as he walked the streets of Basil, a large settlement north of Vale in the Basil Valleys, carved out by Basil Mountain's runoff and leading into the Vale River and into the Patch Delta's.

Bas, short for Basalin, was what was known as a True Faunas for many and a Beast to the racists due to his extra features. His kind was rare, as in 1 in a million.

His predatory nature, his strength, and general sense of mischief got him a rather mixed reputation. His relation to the settlement's oldest hunter was a saving grace otherwise he was half certain he'd be lynched.

Carrow's decision to have the Dungeon ability was another saving grace. Not for his reputation, but rather for his sanity. His new nature as a True Faunas meant that his biochemistry was far different and more inline with that of a reptile made to kill.

Reptile's weren't known for their loving and inclusive behavior, making him a natural pariah and loner, paired with his rediscovered impulsive behavior toward violence, his new found sadism, and his predatory instincts. Bas needed an outlet.

He wasn't a human who could learn to push down on those new impulses, as his Faunas biology constantly reminded him of a need to hunt and kill. He'd need intense medication, and would likely be a serial killer in this life without the Grimm and Bandits to hunt and kill.

With his dungeon, he played with goblins in a different dimension while getting paid gold, sliver, and magic books.

Bas entered his first store, a local general store that sold tobacco, cannabis, and cigarets. Along with a few types of alcohol, but it was all cheap beer and low quality liquor.

He entered the store and glanced at the young man manning the counter. New blood, great.

He went over to the counter and waved up to the man absorbed into his scroll.

"Uh- hi little guy." The man peered down.

"One kilo of weed." Bas requested, and the man floundered. "Uh, got a licenses?" The man asked awkwardly.

"...sigh. Where's Jim?" He asked, the old dude was his usual supplier.

"You mean gramps?" The young man asked, "He's out back, our coolers on the fritz."

Bas walked out back, pushing into the room with an employee only sigh on it and ignoring the young man's calls. He passed the employee lounge, before entering the back. There an elderly man was working on a the ice dust generator.

"Old Man Jim," Bas greeted. The old man removed his head from the manual of the generator, and turned his surprised eyes to the young boy in his door frame.

"Ah, Bas. Old Crouch need his smokes?" The man guessed, turning to the generator again. Bas walked up and snagged the manual.

"Yeah, his booze stores are out too." The old man hissed at the recipe for disaster that would be. "Plus, he lost in training again. old man's getting old." The elderly general store owner laughed. "Lost again?" He shook his head "That old badger."

Then his grandson bolted in. "Gramps! There's a boy..." Bas didn't pay attention.

"Ah, this kid?" Jim asked. "He's the grandson to an old friend. You'll see him around a lot, getting into places no kid his age should be." The old man glared at the boy who read smut and porn in public spaces. Bas just stared unnervingly into the general store owner's eyes. The man broke his gaze and sighed, "Get the kid his weed, its for his grandfather, old gits too lazy or too irate to get it himself." The old man turned back to his manual, only to find it in Bas' hands, the boy inspecting the generator.

The boy clicked his tongue, "Shitty ass mother-" The boy cursed as he inspected the materials for the generator. "This is a Schnee Model TX34, its made out of a steel that doesn't handle the contractions of heat and cold too well, which makes it rather brittle. A few components have broken and it'll need to be sent to the shop or replaced." Bas mumbled to himself. "I'd get a Black Ice, expensive and designer, but this is a cooler for your store. It breaks at a bad time and you don't catch it, an entire months worth of produce is gone. Your passing your shop onto your kid's kid, so make it nice for him." Bas finished, passing the manual back to the man, leaving him wide eyed.

A few minutes later he had his kilo bagged and tagged, and was off to the liquor store. He enter and found an interesting addition to the store.

A young teen, thirteen, maybe younger was scratching black peach-fuzz coming out of his face. He had red eyes, black swept back hair, and a crude sword and shotgun hybrid on his hip. In his hand he had a six-pack of beer. Bas passed by him as the older male inspected a bottle of rum, and started collecting his own bottles and a bag of ice.

They entered the line at similar times. The young bandit peered down and his eyes widened at the young nine or ten year old in line with him.

"Uh, kid, you sure your supposed to be here?" Qrow asked, causing the young boy of black and grey mixed hair to look up at him.

"Gramps needs his stuff. I got sent on errands." The boy shrugged. Qrow hummed and shrugged, not finding much wrong with that. They waited in line for a moment before the boy asked his own question. "What's your line of work, merc, cheap hunter, bandit?" The boy asked, causing the teen to jolt in shock.

"Uh, ah, merc, yeah." The teen lied badly.

The boy stared, "Yeah. Sure." They waited a few more, with Qrow sweating bullets under the stare of a child. Getting rang up, Qrow bolted out of the store. Basalin's gaze followed the retreating figure of the teen, and sighed. 'A possible bandit raid... thought they only did that in Anima? The Branwen clan only operates there.' Bas thought.

'Maybe Qrow and Raven escaped? AU? Or they were sent early for the Hunter Exam, not really sure how they entered Beacon.' Basalin shrugged. "I'll tell grampa." He paid, and took the bags holding the bottles before walking home.

Entering the house, he saw his grampa watching a fishing show with a bottle of old beer in his hand. Crouch Chrome doesn't like beer, but he still has some emergency stashes.

"Gramps, got your stuff." Bas announced, causing the old man to snap his gaze onto his bags. "Haha! Nice!" The man celebrated.

"What you want?" Bas asked.

The man would demand the boy to serve him.

"Whiskey, on the rocks!" The old badger yelled, causing the younger male to remove the whiskey bottle and put all the other bags into the fridge. He leaped up onto the counter, got out a glass and then a bag of ice from another bag from the liquor store. It wasn't one of those fancy ice balls, but ice was ice.

He handed the glass to his grampa, watching a man wrestle a massive fish on T.V with him. "What'd ya get for dinner?"

"I was just gonna order it with the scroll." The man grunted and handed his scroll to the boy. "Do your magic, kid."

He called the Chinese place, or rather, Mistrali place and placed two orders of teriyaki chicken.

"So..."

The man groaned. "Shit kid, every time you say that, somethings gone wrong."

"Che, not every time." The boy grumbled.

"Spit it out."

"Think I saw a bandit today. Scruffy teen, Anima features, got real nervous when I asked if he was a merc or bandit."

The old man hummed, "Red eyes, black hair?" He asked.

"Yeah." The boy nodded.

The man spat into his spitting pot. "Get me my paper and some of the weed. I need to get in shape." The old man's features hardened.

"The fucks weed gonna do?" The kid mumbled.