Beast Brothers of remnantAuthors note. Hello again this is chapter two. It's longer than the last one and is focused on fleshing out Logan's younger life and the community he is a part of. It will also tease some things that are going to be very prevelant parts of Logans Development and the eventual situations that he'll find himself in. This is also my first ever pov chapter so I hope you enjoy. Both X-Men and RWBY are property of Marvel and Rooster teeth respectively this story is non-profit and created for entertainment purposes only.Chapter 2 (Logan POV)
Logan quickly caught up with the elder as they made their way back to their training hut to drop of the knife before breakfast. As they walked Logan's ears twitched as he listened to the various sounds of the forest. A rabbit's heart beating furiously as it hid from a hawk hunting in the sky, the sounds of ants scuttling across the rocks as the pair passed and even the laboured breaths of a deer nearby as it rested obviously having fled from some predator.
If it wasn't obvious Logan had very good ears.
"Anything interesting" muttered the elder who strode with his usual hobbled gait which still managed to force Logan to walk full pace to keep up. Logan looked up at the old man before returning his eyes to the path "Nothing much, might be a wolf nearby. Deer's scared shitless"
The resulting sound frightened some birds nearby to take flight as Logan gripped his hair in pain from the blow. "THE HELL WAS THAT FOR GRAMPS!" SMACK! "SHIT ST-" SMACK! "ARGH!"
Logan knelt down to get away from the old man's deceivingly strong hand as the elder gave him a warning look
"Just because I tolerate your swearing doesn't mean Cindral will. You've been getting too liberal with your language recently, goanna to get me in-trouble ya daft brat." Muttered the elder who resumed his pace forcing Logan to quickly catch up.
"Ya didn't have to hit me gramps" growled the boy as he matched the pace with difficulty.
"Don't lie either. We both know nothing less will get through your thick head lad" grunted the elder as he smirked at the boy's frustration. "Besides we're here"
Logan looked up still massaging his head to observe his lifelong home. It wasn't much a simple hut for the weapons and training equipment, an outhouse sitting away from the main house which was little more than a two room cabin and a rope and plank swing hanging from a nearby tree swinging in the breeze. But it was home and it was more than many had in this world. The elder jerked his head towards the house as he moved back to the hut, knife in hand. Logan took the message and moved to enter the main house.
As he walked his eyes were drawn towards a large gathering of gravestones set into the ground in a nearby tree, he moved on seamlessly ignoring the pain in his chest that had accompanied him for 6 long years. A lesson from his father from… before echoes in his mind as it does every time he goes through this little event. "Time doesn't heal scars kiddo but it does teach you how to ignore the pain and soldier on." If you're an ordinary person and wondering who the fuck would say this sort of stuff to a 4 year old, let's just say that Logan's education was always different…. And very interesting.
Little event seamlessly dealt with Logan turned the Knob to enter the building and was hit with the familiar smell of walls soaked with wood smoke. The cabin was over 50 years old and bore the stains of all the lives lived inside of it. Like the black spot where great aunt Agnes spilled her brothers homemade calligraphy set, or the darkened section of the wall where his uncle Marcus set fire to himself after laying too close to the fire pit with spirits (Vodka) in his hands, hell there was even a gouge in the wall where Logan's own father had killed a Beowolf with a chopping axe at the age of 7. Every stain, every piece of damage and every imperfection in this tiny little home had a story. Logan took all this in with a glance as he moved over to his section of the main room. A little corner with a cot and a chest of drawers, both hand carved by the elder during his mother's pregnancy. He began switching his dirty clothes with fresh ones for his trip into the village, take no consideration to the old man stomping past into his own room/office/private space away from annoying kids. They'd had conversations about this arrangement in the past.
As Logan finishes getting ready the old man walks out with two objects in hand and another on his back. Logan smirked in satisfaction, taking his trench knifes by the sheathes then strapping them onto his waist. They were simple 12inch long steel serrated combat daggers with custom fitted bronze knuckle dusters covering the leather wrapped handles and steel stubby spikes extending downwards past the handle to provide three separate methods of attack in close quarters. 'Just in case' thought Logan reaffirming the lessons taught to him as he looked up to admire the old man's choice of weapon. The axe resting against his back was almost as old as he was showing all the signs of wear and tear that continued use would yield. Its darkened leather handle was worn and had the occasional mark from deflected blows that had landed upon it, the wood that showed between the wrappings was aged but well taken care of showing signs of regular oiling. But the Axe's blade stole the show, a full foot across with a pronounced beard the single edged axe was noticeably sharp and like the other parts of the weapon showed signs of use, the occasional nick on the edge or a deep scratch across the side of the blade revealed that this particular tool was no woodsmen's axe, if the design didn't already give that away. The fact that it stood axe head to shoulder resting against the ground with the 6ft 10in elder made it clear that this weapon was not meant for normal hands.
"Goanna keep gawking at the old girl. You've seen her a thousand times" Bluntly stated the elder staring in amusement at the boys wonder at the sight of his longest running partner to date.
"It's still awesome though" muttered Logan looking the majestic if gruff axe over, the similarities between the axe and elder have not escaped his notice either as he snuck a few discreet glances at the old man's arms which were revealed to be intermediately scarred but covered in thick corded muscle so thick that one would struggle to wrap two hands around his forearm. "And stop looking at my arms kid, if you want some like these your goanna have to work for it." Smirked the elder as he turned and walked out of the house hastily followed by Logan who smirked cheekily at the elders back "like those, HA! Old man I'm going to have arms twice as large as yours by the time I'm 15" boasted the delusional Logan as he rushed past at full pace to begin climbing the trees further up the path on the way to the village.
"Ha" chuckled the elder "Kids these days" as he began his own hobbled march down the path.
(POV Switch Cindral)
Cindral Mercy of the clan antler was use to this sound. To this scene waking up to the almost darkness of early morning, she was even used to the feeling of abject tiredness that had plagued her every morning since she turned 19 60 years ago.
It still pissed her off.
Her fist cracked down on the alarm with sudden violence only brought by reflex. The only reason her alarm was not a bunch of scrap at this moment was the fact that it was a model specially made to withstand cranky hunters from the kingdoms. Even still after striking the damn thing every morning for 20 years since she got it as a gift from her brother it had noticeable damage a crack here a dented piece there.
"Blasted machine" mumbled the still sleepy moose faunus as she quickly sat up before sleep took her again.
She swung herself out of bed into a pair of simple fur slippers that she had made herself after finding her bones could no longer cope with the early morning chill without pain like they could in her younger years. She trod through her small cabin twisting a small fire dust apparatus attached to the wall of her home quickly setting the preloaded logs alight. She moved in a stupor towards her kettle which was filled last night by two of the village boys at the well.
'Nice lads' she thought sleepily placing the kettle on the fire before moving towards her food cupboard for her one and only vice.
After prepping (and downing) a cup she began her morning routines quickly showering and dressing for the day ahead, just as the sun was coming over the hill.
"Wonder how Jimmy and Aura are doing." Murmured the woman as she exited the house. If one wondered how a person who lived alone could afford such expensive things like a dust oven or an actual working shower in a village literally in uncharted land, there were two reasons. One, just because the village was miles away from the nearest 'civilised area' didn't mean these people where savages, or that they were stupid enough to enter this area without making sure they could survive in relative comfort. Most of the villagers had a certain skill that they had brought with them when they left the kingdoms, an entire clan in the village specialised in plumbing and house accessories. However you would be right if you thought such comforts were unusual for normal villagers which leads to the next reason. Cindral was the primary provider of cooked food for the entire village. That shower unit came at the cost of two extra eggs on old Marcus the Hog's plate every breakfast. And that heating unit was payed for with free sandwiches for the bull clan for 10 years. Cindral obviously couldn't do this alone she had women from all over the village and a few young lads to help her every hour of the cooking day. Though every family had some capacity to cook for themselves they simply didn't have time to do it during working hours.
The only reason a village this size could exist outside the kingdoms without extensive aid was twofold. Great countermeasures against the Grimm, and the fact that every member contributed to some facet of the villages running every single day. Cindral's contribution was running the villages primary eating place and managing the food stocks on a day to day basis. A job that she both understood the importance of and enjoyed.
As she made her way through the slowly waking village she spied several members of different clans moving around getting the early work done. Thanks to the clans being dedicated to certain jobs there were enough workers for every hour in the day to be covered and still provide a rest period of several hours for clansmen to relax.
"Seems they managed to get the river unblocked" murmured Cindral using her own conversation to spark up her brains engine for the day ahead. She soon arrived at the eating hall quickly unlocking the door and moving in grabbing an apron on the way. Several fellow early morning workers followed her in every one looking sleepy but determined to get the job done. With only a single glance each cook moved to his or her place in the back room kitchen quickly making a mix of breakfast and supper for the villagers. Several workers would have been up all night getting the river unblocked so it did not need to be said that they would be wanting something a little more filling than a breakfast meal, so supper it was. As the food began being made and sent out to the early birds and the all nighter workers Cindral began to move through her kitchen keeping the staff from making mistakes and aiding in the little jobs that needed to be done while still keeping an eye out.
She was in her element as more and more villagers came to the hall to eat. To anyone who knew kingdom faunus an obvious oddity would be quickly discerned. All the Faunus in the hall where herbivores with no outright carnivores. Another thing that would be noticed would be the large numbers of the individual faunus species grouped together rarely intermixing. Almost like a self-induced segregation based on species. The reason for this was based in the ancient mythology of the faunus clans, back when faunus had never seen a human and considered themselves the only sentient race on Remnant (though some humans would beg to differ). Back in these times the faunus where savage just like their human counter parts but with the addition of animal characteristics and influences on their culture and mythology. At one time some carnivorous faunus actually used to hunt and eat herbivorous faunus mimicking their animalistic counterparts. This obviously led to some bad blood between the different types of faunus types. Which stayed quite prevalent till the infamous Colour Wars were such petty grudges where put aside in the face of humanities terrible treatment of faunus citizens.
One may ask why such attitudes prevailed in this village even a century after the colour wars ended. Well that's because the exposition that this village was formed from was created and launched 20 years before the Colour Wars even started. As such this revolution in attitudes never occurred and ancient biases prevailed. This may also create the question of why the herbivores where so segregated among each other, the answer to that wa….
"Auntie Cindral" Shouted a young voice as a black blur rushed through the hall to meet the elderly woman with a tackle hug around the waist.
OOMPH! Grunted the woman as she quickly steadied herself before she could fall looking down at her great grandnephew.
"Hello Jimmy" stated Cindral as she looked disapprovingly at the boy as he smiled back cheekily "What did I tell you about barging into the hall, you could have hurt someone." Admonished Cindral as she automatically looked around for her elder brother Aura quickly spotting the silver haired warrior as he entered the hall. It was at this moment that she registered the quiet that had fallen over the hall. She looked over at the villagers who were obviously uncomfortable at the presence of her two closest relatives, though for very different reasons.
"Lets go to my office much more comfortable right" said Cindral as she pushed a false upbeat tune to her voice as she guided Logan towards the back of the hall hoping to spare him the wary and disgusted looks of the villagers. She could tell despite his attempt to remain happy for her sake that the reaction of the villagers both hurt and angered him. Only her presence stopped him from lashing out. As she opened her office and checked to make sure her brother followed she spied the looks that the villagers were sending him.
Looks of fear.AU This chapter was originally going to be a bit longer but I've had to move some of my planned content over to chapter 3 since I felt it was taking too long between this and my college stuff. Gotta give you guys something. I hope my writing qualities improved since I've been seriously trying to implement the advice that I've already received but I guess we'll see. Also next chapters going to include both an explanation to the things teased in this chapter. If you've seen the recent World of remnant videos you might already have an idea about some of them. It will also have the training scene I promised. (I think I did any way not got time to check):
Hope you enjoy.