The Depths of Madness

Introduction: Alright, this is to be a story describing the events in the life of one of my long gone characters named Tenokora. He was to be my original double dagger assassin, but I had the build slightly wrong, and here we are. In any case, I saw fit to have him as the subject of this story. He's the paradoxical anti-hero who travels around Rune-Midgard, not really with any purpose. A side note for names… All names are done in the English style of speaking, so Tenokora is his first name, not his family name. This goes for other characters, as well.

Prologue

The snow fells all around the battleground in a slow, but steadily strengthening, blizzard. All over the ground lay the bodies of the ice wolves… the Hatii. It was unusual that a pack of them would have grouped in such a way near Lutie, but they indeed had. As their blood pooled around the bodies of the canine beasts, the life liquid dyed the snow a sickly crimson color. The smell of death wafted around on the breeze, and many would-be adventurers who had been in the area were now backing away from the massacre of the wolves, and soon those adventurers would be telling the tale of what they saw to their friends in the taverns and inns nearby.

A dark figure crouched in the middle of the bodies, just next to the largest of them all. It seemed as though no life had been spared, and even the cubs had been slain in the grisly battle. Hooded eyes looked upwards and towards the moon, which was just barely visible through the thickening mass of clouds overhead. The wind whistled past this shadow of a form as it leaned over the massive Hatii next to it and examined the death before its eyes. The Hatii seemed to stir slowly, as if there was some life left in it. Its huge eyes blinked a few times as it tried to regain consciousness.

The figure's hand shot out, a dagger enclosed in its grip as it gouged into the beasts throat several times, a small blood spray shooting off and into the figure's face. The greatest of the Hatii pack was dead, and the icy shadow was the victor. Using a sawing motion to claim its treasure, the silhouette of a man stood up and grasped a razor sharp tooth, one as long as the forearm that held it. A deep, rough laugh echoed around in the windswept plain as the figure stowed away the tooth into its cloak and began to walk slowly from the place of death. As it did, the snow slowly began to cover up the bodies… and no one would know the next day what had happened.

-+-

Chapter: 1

In the Christmas town of Lutie, the sounds of celebration and cheering filled the little inns and taverns all around town. Why not? It was, after all, the celebration of the marriage of one of the princes of Rune-Midgard to the heiress of a fine merchant lord of Al De Baran. The whole country was called to celebrate, and indeed, quite a bit of it did show up for the party. Light from windows spilled onto the streets, and those who were brave enough stood out in the cold with friends, drinking away their troubles and having a jolly time. It could have been fifty degrees below zero, but it still felt warm inside for the happy peoples of the nation.

Of course, there were some inns and taverns in the farther reaches of town that were not as packed with visitors. The wedding had already taken place that day, so even though the festivities carried on, some people had indeed left to go back to their business around the land. In any case, one tavern-inn in particular had slow business that night, and that was The White Fang. It had barely seated twenty customers that night, and seemed an ideal place for anyone wishing for a little quiet to go off to.

The White Fang was a rickety affair, yet on the inside it had a homely, welcoming feel to it. There was a bar and counter section made from what appeared to be mahogany to the left of the door upon entering, and several stools of similar design were scattered around it. There was a long table behind the bar with many glasses on racks and bottles of various things, along with a few strange contraptions with various drinking purposes. Right behind the counter area was a small bulletin board that also served as a place to hold keys for the guests' rooms, what with all of the hooks at the bottom. Another door farther back led to what seemed to be a small kitchen and living area, where the owner most obviously must have lived. A fireplace was situated in the middle of the far wall from the door in the actual tavern area, and there were many tables of different make and condition set up, each with several mismatched chairs around it. A fire blazed merrily away behind the chain guard, and the hearth was quite warm to the touch. The walls were the same as the floor, a dark wood color with signs of continued wear and tear over the years. To the right of the door from an entering guest's view, there was a staircase and separate hall surrounded by various hunting trophies on the wall, and both side-exits obviously led to rooms that could be rented. Altogether, it was rather ancient and dusty… but the price and the atmosphere was just right.

Despite all this, the atmosphere seemed to be an uneasy one… perhaps because there were about three knights and three rogues that had been bickering throughout the night. Other patrons had moved to the other end of the room, and there was a great deal of space close to the two quarreling parties. The owner of the establishment, Zenchi, had done his best to contain the two groups with more drinks and food. This, of course, was only making them both fall into a deeper stupor and thusly have a shorter fuse in terms of anger. Zenchi was a rather dark-skinned man with a stocky, stout figure and a barrel chest and arms along with a thick beard and moustache. He had a good nature, especially in his plain blue work shirt and large canvas pants, owing to his size.

Among the other guests, there was a pair of archers that seemed quite content to chatter with each other below their breaths about the other guests, one male and one female. Then, of course, there was the happy party of acolytes, merchants, and the odd blacksmith. That put the total at around fifteen, and it seemed like even though that was a decent number, business was still slowly carrying on. There was another, smaller party of revelers that numbered three, and that included a young novice, a quiet monk, and a friendly swordswoman. All in all, there was indeed a rather restlessness about the room, as if something was bound to happen sooner or later.

And so something did. The bell near the door rang as it was opened, and a cold gust of air shot into the room from outside. In stepped an assassin, garbed in an assortment of dark blue, icy blue, and the occasional grey color. He was tall, and had a lean figure underneath his clothes. His long, spiky white hair hung halfway down his back, and stuck up in odd places. On one shoulder was slung a rather normal sized pack, and around his waist was a belt that held two daggers on either side, and several little pouches. All in all, his other clothing was typical of an assassin, aside from the colors. His skin wasn't pale, so to speak, but it wasn't tanned, either. His face was rather defined and sharp, though he seemed aloof with the long eyelashes that made him look half-asleep. However, any who looked directly into his eyes were frozen to the spot for a few seconds by the piercing, frosty-blue gaze that looked straight back at them.

He stepped to the counter and smiled at Zenchi, rummaging in his pocket and pulling out several large gold coins. "I think ten-thousand zeny should cover my expenses and room for the night, my good man," he said, his voice soft and deep as he leaned casually against the counter. Zenchi smiled, the kind man that he was, and gave a nod as he pushed a few of the coins back as well as a key.

"No sir, I won't have you paying that much for yourself. I've had this place for years, so any business is good business, eh?" He gave a short laugh and started to slide the coins into a pouch behind the counter. The greedy eyes of several other people in the room were now focused on the assassin's pack. If he could pay ten-thousand zeny for one room and a few drinks, why wouldn't he have enough to… go around? A few sniggers crossed the room as those unsavory characters plotted away as to the demise of the man who had just entered. Ears pricked up, however, the assassin heard every whisper… though he didn't show it. "Ah, and one more thing, my good sir. May I have your full name for the registry? Standard procedure, you know," Zenchi added, scratching his beard as he opened up a logbook and dipped his quill in a small jar of ink.

"…It's Tenokora Kyouran Metsuki," Tenokora replied, looking at the floor for a moment before continuing to speak, "And I'd like a Lutie Brew, if that's alright… nice and hot." Zenchi nodded a few times as Tenokora left off from the bar to find a seat. All eyes were on him, drunk or sober. He just happened to pick a table that was between those of the rogues and the knights, giving a soft sigh and settling into his chair. Soon, Zenchi had come with his drink and left, leaving Tenokora to slowly sip at it as he let his eyelids droop.

The whole matter seemed to completely set the rogues off, as they immediately jumped up from their seats and stomped over to Tenokora's table. It was two males and a female, and they all grinned maliciously as they took seats around the assassin and brandished daggers. Before a few moments had passed, the tips of the daggers were buried in the table as they laughed and seemed to almost toy with Tenokora. The larger of the two males, who seemed to be the leader, was a rough looking type with a big, bulky frame and shaggy black hair. His dull eyes seemed to brighten a little as he pulled the beaker of hot ale from Tenokora's grasp and slopped it into his own mouth lazily. His mouth opened as he began to speak, the alcohol spraying onto his "victim's" face. "Hey, you… You… assasshin… Youse gots to pay respeckt to ush rogues… or we'll cut it out uv yew…" He grinned and pulled his dagger from the table and held it menacingly to Tenokora's throat, his cohorts doing likewise.

"If it's zeny you're after, here you go," the assassin replied, wiping his face with a gloved hand and then retrieving a small sum of gold from his carrying bag. He placed the little pile on the table and leaned back a bit more into his chair, only to find the rogues still pressing their blades to his neck as if nothing had happened. It didn't shock him, though it was a little unexpected. The female rogue looked to her two companions, and as they nodded she began inspecting the coins and pocketing them quickly, lest any of the other patrons try to get their hands on them.

The lead rogue and his other partner, however, still did not remove their daggers from Tenokora's neck. "Wut are yew… sum kinda smart assh…? I'll slit yore throat open!" he growled, pressing the blade closer as the indifferent assassin didn't budge an inch. The rogues soon found that they were cutting through a mere afterimage of the warrior, and that the figure from the snow was now standing behind them with evil intent in his eyes.

"You think you're going to hack an assassin, hm…? I believe I'll teach you both who really performs the hacking and slashing around Rune Midgard…" Tenokora murmured, his voice low and rough as he ripped the daggers from the each of his foe's outstretched hands. They both gave confused whimpers as a knee plowed between their shoulder blades, and they fell to the floor amid several cracking sounds emitting from their backs. Tenokora stood up slowly and pocketed their daggers before looking to the female rogue who was still sitting in her seat, cowering in fear. "You… take them both upstairs and bandage their wounds before my fangs find you…" he said, drawing two glimmering blades from their sheathes at either side of his belt. The rogue hurried to comply as she took one of each of her friends' legs and dragged them up the stairs and into their room. "Does anyone else want some zeny without having to do anything…?" he said, laughing quietly, yet in a markedly mad way as he looked around the room. No one answered.

The knights that had been squabbling with the rogues immediately seemed to be taken aback, and the commotion that had filled the room before was now replaced by an eerie silence. It all seemed a little to dark to actually take place in such a cheery town as Lutie.

Sitting back down in his seat, he smiled naturally again and let the two blades fall back into place. "I'm sorry about that, everyone… I… I tend to get a little carried away," he said, letting his eyelids half close. Underneath, they were still looking around with the most evil bloodlust thought capable of a man, though no one noticed even then. It seemed that the night's events had finally passed their climax, and the room was beginning to calm back to its normal state. Zenchi mopped at his brow furiously as he looked outside of the window to make sure no guards were in on the event. He had enough of a bad reputation for such fights at his establishment already. No need to add more salt to the wounds that were already threatening to fester.

On the other side of the room, the group of three had been watching the assassin intently ever since he came in, though they were more fascinated by his manners, rather than startled or shocked. It was in this that they seemed to attract a small amount of attention to themselves, as it seemed like a feat in itself to react in a positive way to what Tenokora had done. It was when the monk had rapped her hand smartly on the table that the few watching them turned away and went back to their own business.

The youthful novice was the most excited out of the three, and was amazed at how coolly the assassin had handled the situation, despite the small amount of strange behavior towards the end of his little performance. He had short brown hair that spiked all over his head, and looked to be about the age of sixteen, and was junior of the party. He wore plain, russet clothes from head to toe. In fact, he wore a tunic of canvas, and pants of a bit tougher of a weave of cotton with several pockets on them. At his side was a short sword known as a dirk, and one his feet were beaten up old boots. His dark brown eyes gazed admiringly at the assassin, and his typical yet clean teenage face was lit up with interest. He leaned on one elbow and sighed a little before taking another drink from his beaker. "Wow… He's so cool!" came his voice, still light from youth. "I wish I were able to handle a situation like that so calmly, eh, sister?"

The "sister" in question was the monk seated not far away from the novice, and her light green eyes glared at him angrily. "I told you not to call me sister…" she muttered, her voice trailing off as she watched the assassin with a similar interest to her companion's. She was dressed in dark crimson colors all around, and had a hat that obviously once belonged to a Munak adorning her head. The youthful monk's age seemed to be about nineteen, as if she had seen some years on the field of battle before. The girl's long brown hair was tied in a ponytail, and her form and face had a beauty that she apparently wanted to hide behind the rough guise of a warrior monk. She smiled a little as she watched Tenokora order another drink, and it was obvious that there was a slight tinge in her cheeks as she gazed away. "He… he is something, though, Koji…"

Koji, the novice, chuckled and covered his mouth as he tried to prevent his drink from spurting out as he laughed. "Look's like Keisei Kokoro-chan has a crush on someone!" he yelled out loud, almost wishing he hadn't a few moments later. The deeper red blush that crossed the girl's features stood out blaringly as she dealt a blow between his eyes with two fingers, and he passed out on the table from the hit.

"Little jerk…" she mumbled as she looked down at the table and folded her hands in her lap. She looked over to the now stunned form of Koji and shook her head before patting his shoulder a few times. "I wish he could behave…" She sighed and looked back to Tenokora, shrugging off the worry that Koji might be a little upset with the fact that she had hit him so hard.

The last of the trio, the swordswoman, smirked and drew the long greatsword from its sheath across her back. She checked the edge on the tip of her index finger before saying, "I'd like to fight him, though… as sure as my name is Iroka Somatsu." She was usually more talkative than Keisei, but tonight she had the fight on her mind, and nothing could really stop her once she set her mind to something. She had a slim build in her swordswoman outfit, and it was all a deep green shade that matched the forests of Payon where she was raised. Her long red hair wasn't silken, but it was soft and easy to handle as it hung about her shoulders. She looked to be a bit stronger than Koji, but not by much. A longsword hung at her hip, in its scabbard at the moment, but she acted as bravely as if she were really wielding it at that moment. It was obvious that she was overconfident in her skills, but that couldn't stop her from dreaming about things. Her whole nature had a charm about her, but it was countered with a rough personality.

Even so, none of them had really taken in the fact that Tenokora had been watching just about everyone in the room out of the corner of his eye. He looked straight at Iroka, laughing abrasively and holding up an accusing finger. "You want a piece of me, swordswoman…? Come for a scrap at sunup, just outside of town…" he said, standing up and throwing a small, cheaper blade that was easily replaced. The dagger landed, tip in the wood, right next to Iroka's hand. She jumped and looked at him incredulously as he left the room and walked into the inn hall, his bag slung over his shoulder. She shook her head and placed the hand that had nearly been pierced on her forehead slowly, not certain of what she had just seen.

"Do you… do you think he could really hear us talking?" Keisei inquired of her friend, glancing at the assassin's silhouette in the passage with a slight shiver. The female monk wasn't so sure about whether or not she actually desired to come into a closer contact with such a brutal person. Keisei shivered a little and readjusted her hat, making sure that she didn't look too frightened in front of her comrades. She was, after all, supposed to be the one protecting them.

Zenchi strode over, polishing a glass and looking nervously at the hall that Tenokora had disappeared into, as if he thought that perhaps the assassin would return to wreak more havoc upon the hapless drunkards of the tavern. "I think he very may well have," he whispered to the small group, unsure of whether he should speak normally at this point, given the fact that everyone had once again gone rather quiet at the impetuous actions of the blue-swathed assassin who had just turned the tavern atmosphere into one of apprehension and unsettlement.

Keisei and Iroka nodded, having the exact same mentality regarding the unpredictable guest. The sighed in unison and stood up, with Iroka soon speaking again. "I have to fight him… It'd go against my honor as a swordswoman if I didn't accept the challenge," she said, looking down at the table as she roughly hauled Koji up and started to drag him up a set of stairs next to the hall that Tenokora had entered. "Come on, Keisei…" she muttered before brightening up a little and continuing, "We need to sleep if we're going to face off with that guy tomorrow."

Keisei looked at her nervously and stood up, starting with, "B-but you'll be hurt, for su-.." However, she was cut off by the next few things that her companion said, and submitted by saying, "Alright… I suppose we should get some rest. We're very sorry if we caused any trouble, Zenchi…" She trailed off and looked a bit ashamed at the trouble that they had seemed to have caused, but Zenchi shook his head vigorously and smiled. Keisei nodded and brightened up, helping Iroka to carry Koji to their room, picking up his feet and continuing up the stairs with her friend.

Back in the tavern, everything resumed with its natural rhythm of happiness and relief that the assassin was gone, but just about everyone in the building had at least an inkling of the trouble that would occur outside of town the next morning. Some groups even seemed excited, and murmured about going to see the fight, even though they would probably keep a good distance if they did witness the spectacle. The night slowly wore on, and the current tenants of the tavern either left, or wandered off to their inn rooms… and the moon rose higher in the sky. Outside, shadows flitted through the streets, and the faint, mournful howl of the wind could be heard calling out to the moon in its sad song.

"In the light of the moon… the darkness falls on my mind… and the red fury takes me again…"