Series will feature crude language and violent imagery.

IN THE FACE OF THE WORLD

The Birth of A Faction - The Beginning of A New Era

Part 1

Adam Taurus stood atop a brazen cliff swept with wind. Lengths of dark red hair dangled limply in front of his face and tangled on a pair of red horns that protruded from the top of his head. For the majority of his young life, the two nubs had always been there but it was only recently that the area began to swell. The soft skin-like protrusions soon started to harden and within weeks, Adam's horns emerged from the cover of his hair. To Adam, this was a particularly difficult time. A hard pad had unexpectedly developed on the roof of his mouth and its arrival was followed by the loss of his upper teeth. Once an essential component of his diet, his lack of teeth heavily limited his consumption of meat. Something that was once feasible in a matter of minutes now took almost an hour to complete. He knew this because it had once taken him an hour to consume a small slice of steak. Chewing furiously, he managed to reduce the morsel into a paste that crawled into his gut with considerable difficulty. Savory smells of roasted flesh conjured strong cravings which transformed into despondence upon remembrance of how his small sampling had led to days of crippling indigestion. Other physical changes were readily evident. His legs and torso had grown long and thin and he walked tentatively, unnerved and disaffected by the rate at which he had grown.

Evidently, Adam was not an ordinary child. He was a Faunus, a term relegated to any man or woman that possessed the physical qualities of animals wild or domestic. For a term that derogated men to the status of mongrel, it seemed ironic that it was the one his forefathers had openly accepted as the designation for their entire race.

Was it done in defiance or in submission? This question was asked by Adam's mentor Bhalu an enormous Faunus covered in dense patches of black fur. When the young boy could not answer the older Faunus simply nodded.

"The day you'll be able to answer this question is the day the fate of our people lies in your hands."

At the time Adam assumed that the question was yet another one of Bhalu's many proverbs, short catechisms that were often paradoxical and nonsensical in design. But there was something special in the way Bhalu mentored Adam that made the boy truly believe that he was being cultivated for some greater cause. By day Bhalu subjected the boy to some athletic challenge meant to develop his strength and endurance and by night - under the painted sky - lectured the young boy on the history of his people, providing critical insight into the vile nature of the other kin. Adam's devotion was initially variable and lacking however his countenance quickly morphed under his mentor's willful eye. Mistakes never went unnoticed and Bhalu's fury was of such a magnitude that the boy trembled at the thought of his master's wrath. In the span of less than a year Adam had developed into competence. Despite his inexperience, his talents were immense, his potential martial and mental prowess rivaling even the most prodigious of Menageriean youth. Such was the impact of Bhalu's tutelage, that a young boy of obscure birth could be elevated from his position of servitude and have the means of realizing his true potential. With each passing day under the cover of night, Adam pondered over that question. Was it done in defiance or in submission? One day he would become one of the leaders of his people. Then he would know for sure.

But before Adam could even think of leading his people, there were certain trials he had to undergo. This was one of them. Before his feet, in the shadow of the valley stretched below, was a patch of forest that led straight to the door of a manor that rested within view of the sea.

The manor belonged to a family that went by the name of Grayborn, descendants of the late entrepreneur whose steelworks amassed him a fortune capable of lasting centuries. The family steelworks had had been sold by the current Lord Grayborn no more than a decade ago. Everything he gained from the transaction had been donated to charity, many of which provided specifically for the welfare of Faunus.

The young Lord Grayborn represented a more altruistic, more mindful kind of wealth. He was an inner city man, a working man, the grandson of a Unipax pedlar, a newly married man who upon receiving the news of his phantom father's death found himself the sole beneficiary of an unfathomable legacy. He was a simple well meaning man, and unlike his contemporaries the Schnees, the Vanders, or even the Essenheims, he refused to let indolent wealth dilute his morality and sense of purpose. He was a compassionate man who had spent much of his early life crying out against injustice. Now that he had an entire world's worth of money behind him, it was only fair for him to contribute in bettering the world which had nursed him into adulthood. Libraries and academies were raised in his name and shelters and various other agencies followed. Addicts and homeless could enter them and exit newly reformed while poverty stricken families were given the means to food, education, and employment. Faunus though rightfully suspicious, found him to a be a willing listener and learned to confide in him. His plans of reconstructing their communities were met with tremendous approval. They applauded him and praised his name. When the first round of construction finished many young Faunus filed into his university, enrolled in programs designed in developing a brand new generation of Faunus scholars. When the first wave graduated many effortlessly found employment in top paying positions that required knowledge and qualifications that normally only the most prestigious of college graduates could fulfill. This phenomena was widely reported throughout the news and the repetition of the trend in the second and third graduating classes silenced the protests of numerous critics. Public tolerance for Faunus greatly increased following the famous broadcasts. For the first in many years Faunus earned the rightful consideration of being steady, respectable members of society, intellectuals whose abilities were not solely confined to that of manual labor. Their living standards improved significantly as malls and convenience stores became established in areas that were once occupied by decrepit slums. The same pattern followed in several of his other districts. Places where he intervened experienced drastic increases in employment and literacy earning him the nickname, "Poverty Buster". He was a hero of the people although many cutthroat businessmen and investors despised him for what they perceived was his wasteful, extravagant flaunting of wealth. Some even gloated for the day of his imminent demise, when his goody-goody compassion would lead him onto the verge of bankruptcy. This antagonism was mutual as Lord Grayborn despised these drab businessmen. His blatant disregard of their vice reached its pinnacle as a surge of pity led him into rescuing the life of young Faunus, purchasing the boy from the clutches of inhumanly servitude. However, his gleaming bounty of achievements failed to erase the crippling stain which had befallen the man when he had first assumed the Grayborn name.

Grayborn Factory Strike Ends in Brutal Massacre: 500 Killed Many Wounded. A creeping chill crept down Adam's spine as he stared at the headline. Though the ink on the article had begun to fade it was still legible, indicative of the nature of the dreadful crime in which its contents would disclose. As he skimmed through the text, words like poisonous daggers entered his mind hacking away at his wits and his conscience. His eyes darted line to line but there was no refuge. Grotesque details encumbered him. He was sick to his stomach. Numbers circled his head accompanied by gruesome images which he could not erase.

"This can't be true" he muttered, "This can't be." It couldn't be but it had to be. The evidence was laid before him in an article published by one of the most influential newspapers of all time, a company run almost exclusively by humans. He tried imagining the beaming face of the Master, but his features disappeared, melted like paraffin wax into an incongruous ball.

Adam whimpered. "Why haven't I heard of this?" His face was downcast and his eyes were strained close, bursting with tears. He opened his eyes as he felt Bhalu's rough fingers tug at his chin.

"If you must, think of this deed as not for yourself, but for the sake of our people. For those lost and those still living." His breath scalded the boy's face. "This is not your fight. It is our people's fight and it is you who will be the vassal to carry out this duty."

Bhalu removed his coarse fingers and stood, motioning the young Faunus that they had yet to reach their destination.

And so there he was now, standing on a cliff, his broadening shoulders sagging under the weight of the world, battered from all directions by the merciless wind. His knuckles were ghastly white and shook fiercely as he gripped the woven handle of a small serrated knife. Veins throbbed all throughout the length of his arm and blood trickled from his closed palm. Although his eyes were forced shut he could sense Bhalu's presence as the earth around his feet began to shift.

Bhalu's deep voice resonated over the crying wind. "When you're ready give me the word."

Adam nodded and concentrated. His heart thumped vigorously, his palm stung, and he was drenched in a sweat that refused to dissipate in relentless wind. Taking a deep breath to quell his anxious spirit, he steadied himself and distanced himself from the blade. Before dusk, this steel would be sated with the blood of his treacherous foe.

He shivered profusely and nearly lost grip. Wasn't this home? Hadn't he grown up playing in the forest and by the manor shore? Images of a recent past overwhelmed his mind, yet all of those memories now seemed distant. He felt as if an eternity had passed since he had last set foot on this ground. How long ago was it? Two years, three years, four…

He was a coward, a pitiful, selfish coward. He could feel the broken and vengeful spirits of his people depending on him, clamoring for a salvation for which he did not have the courage to deliver. Restless voices pleaded in his mind yet he could not bring himself to turn arms again the place he had once called home.

It is our people's fight.

He thought of the father he never knew and how his body had wasted under the torturous heat of the sun. His muscles strained and shredded from overuse, beaten lame by the whips and irons of the overseer.

"It was your father's land, but the plantation man wanted it all to himself. He gave your father these conditions. He could relinquish his land and work as a sharecropper, he could sell his son, or he could contract himself to labor and keep both his land and his family upon fulfillment of the contract. And so with a single contract, your father gave up the right to his life."

The rich were all the same. Everyone of them were degenerate bastards. All but the Lord Grayborn. Whatever misdeed the man had performed was now hidden away in the past. The man had changed for the better and that was definite.

"And maybe he did, maybe he did." The voice of Bhalu mused through his head before delivering another one of his catechisms, "But are the sins of man washed away by the rains of time? It was damn murder, damn murder, unforgivable. He even said it himself." Dead and bloated bodies, fleshy wounds writhing with all sorts of putrid activity. Charred chunks of flesh scattered all about the floor...

Adam shook his head clear of those revolting thoughts. He was utterly nauseous and supported his keeling stomach with his free hand.

Bhalu growled, "Is everything fine?" Adam vigorously nodded his head. He couldn't collapse, no he couldn't. Bhalu's patience was thinning. Any longer and he would snap or worse.

But there was just this name that evoked such a plethora of haunting memories that his knees wobbled and his heart felt soft. Tears welled up in his eye as his conscience whispered the name.

Wilton...

Wilton who always… What could he have possibly done wrong? Wilton was the Grayborn heir, a boy about the same age as Adam, who had lived a sheltered life within the grounds of the Grayborn manor. The two were as close as brothers and were on equal terms despite the drastic difference in their birth. Yet there was that fateful day of the incident when Adam had run away from the manor, through the forest, and into the swamp. That was the last day he ever saw Wilt. The painful memory of the event was now fresh in his heart and he shut his eyes as Bhalu's deep voice entered his mind.

"It is the law of nature, the child bears the guilt of the father. Guilt carried through blood ties can be pardoned only by death."

Tears flowed from Adam's eyes and a choking sob escaped his lips. He hastily wiped them away. He knew what needed to be done and there was no use in having it delayed. Mustering an unforeseen strength he distributed his evenly distributed his weight onto his two feet. His blood boiled and he opened his mouth and screamed.

It was as if the heavens had touched the earth. With a mighty crash, the whistling winds carried his plea, delivering his message across the land. As his own voice echoed in his ears, Adam grew deathly pale and collapsed onto the ground.

A powerful arm descended from above and jerked him onto his feet. "What did you just feel?" The voice demanded.

"There was some heat", Adam replied tentatively.

"Take look at your handiwork." Bhalu pointed, "There."

The knife he had just held had somehow shattered, its parts strewn all over the grass.

"This was…" Adam raised his hands to his face and his heart skipped a beat. The palm where his nails had torn into were now unscathed, save for some residue of blood in which he smothered onto on his pants.

"Well you're something no doubt." The older Faunus said as the boy stood fixated by his miraculous recovery. "Take this." He said handing his sword over the young boy, "You deserve it."

The boy accepted it. Despite its length the sword felt light in the boy's hands.

"Don't forgot what we're here for." Bhalu said sternly.

Adam nodded. He unsheathed his new blade and marveled at its crimson metal.

"That's a real prize isn't it?" Bhalu noted, "It's a good blade. In fact there's a gun in there somewhere..." He reached up and scratched his chin. " I'm sure you'll figure it all out."

Adam inserted the blade back into its sheath. "Don't you need it?" He asked hesitantly, Bhalu shook his head.

"It's yours." Adam quietly nodded and secured the weapon's strap around his waist.

Seeing that the boy was ready, Bhalu turned and leaped down the cliff. Adam followed after his mentor, leaping off the cliff and disappearing into the thick canopy below.

A few hours later and the pristine air was burdened by a thick overpowering haze. Although the blaze had started within the manor, an errant wind had swept the embers into the forest where it caught fire. The first plants to ignite were the small unassuming grasses, dried and withered debris, which burst into brief yet spectacular light. The trees put up a fiercer resistance than their smaller brethren. Although their leaves had disintegrated with the initial blaze their bark held steadfast. Despite being charred, they were still viable. Dead, withered trees and desiccated foliage gave additional life to the fire as they easily ignited and exploded, causing shards of flaming shrapnel to be ejected all throughout. Soon some of the resisting trees would falter and their logs would topple or split. As one tree collapsed, another followed, a cascade which greatly added to the duration of the flame. Perhaps worse than the hellish inferno was the combustion of fuel that released tendrils of vapor into the night sky. Smoky arms grasped and probed at the sky until they found themselves woven into the fabric of the atmosphere. Even the moon which shone absolute fell victim to the dark fog which ensnared the moon and imprisoned its light behind a wall of impenetrable gray.

It was by a miracle of some higher entity that the nocturnal winds had been inexplicably still. By morning the flame had already ceased to spread. Nearly a quarter of the forest was be gone, and the trees that bordered the final reaches of the flames continued to smolder. The manor from the where the flame had originated was nearly gone, the wooden frame and the bodies which had laid in its quiet hall reduced into ash. The only indication of the manor's existence were sets of crumpled stone that had collapsed during the vicious heat. Partial busts and statues lay upon the sooty earth, their once immaculate design streaked with blemish, strewn all over the original foundation.

The events which had unfolded within the confines of that vanished mansion would continue to haunt Adam throughout the years. Any subtle reminder of the event would reduce him into shudders, his mind reminiscing the unthinkable, an event so terrible that it necessitated the blessings of fire to purge and eliminate its presence from the face of the earth. To be the only live witness of such a terrible tragedy… For it was on that night that the sweetness of his youth had disappeared, replaced instead by an angry bitterness and cynicism that would persist and grow and ultimately threaten to destroy the very fabric of his being. Warped by confusion and hatred, he would eventually lose his faculties to that daily cycle of darkness; a cycle that would eventually swallow the entirety of the earth.

This will most likely be at least a three part series.

I haven't really decided when the next chapter for this entry will come out as my next move will be publish an entry which acts a prequel to the events of RWBY.

I don't have a timeline yet but I'm thinking something around the next 2 to 3 months. We shall see.

- IonPlusCat