First stab at a RWBY fanfiction. I have a lot of ideas for this story, but I will warn you: To get background on the story, you will have to watch RWBY through season 3, and there is swearing. Also, I'm not sure what to rate this yet, so if I need to take the rating up a notch, please, PLEASE let me know so I can do that.
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An old building, abandoned and ruined stood in the heart of Vale, covered in vandalism and burnt on parts. The many windows were boarded up, and the door was smashed. Red evening light cast itself onto the once-bright coat of green paint, faded and chipped from the wear and tear of time, and it's shadow cast a gloomy appearance among the alleyways, making it a wonderful hideout. On the outside.
Inside, papers were strewn everywhere, windblown and torn. Old parchments rolled off shelves and books lined the racks, tales of long lost civilizations and myths of greatness. Tiles were shattered and broken, cement chipped across the floor. Splotches of faded red and long scratches on the floor and walls were the only indication that anything was ever inside. Except for today.
A lone man, shrouded in a black cloak hid amongst the shadows, becoming one with them. No one was nearby, so he spoke aloud.
"History. Tales. Legends. These are the stories you have come to love. The stories that you accept. They are keys, ancient answers to unlocking the mysteries of tomorrow." He ran his hands along the leather backs, feeling their edges. "Faunus. Lesser beings. Animals of humanity. These are the stories you remember. The Faunus war, the White Fang, the riots and the killing. They are now history, they are now keys of their own. Each one will fit a lock, an answer to a question from another time. Each one has a part to play, and each one has a lesson to teach." His hand stopped on a very, very old book, the cover of which had faded many years ago. Carefully, he opened it. His dark blue eyes scanned the pages, unharmed and safe from time, preserved in the vault of knowledge. "But, what happens here? Where history is forgotten? What happens when the keys are lost? What happens to the world then?" He paused, letting his words echo in the empty building. "History, tales, and even your legends become lost. Questions and wonders are left unanswered, decisions questioned, and history is doomed to repeat itself once more." The light shifted, spilling onto the cover page. "The Grimm. Creatures of the Shadows. You fear them. You fight them. You try to learn about them yourselves. Yet you cannot figure out why. The Grimm have hunted you for over a millennium, but why? The nature of the beast? Instinct? No, it is because they seek to gain honor for themselves by preying once on the weak, but now, on the strong. And so," He put the book back, dust falling off the cover, revealing golden letters: Inner Grimm, and rubbed his shoulder blades. "We became like them."