As the sun rises, so too do the people of the Ancient Ruins. Originally a hideout for thugs and robbers, it was transformed into a temple and home for those of the society known as the Shadow Assassins. A neutral party in the current conflict, the assassins here refuse to take up arms against neither the Order or the Legion, instead living humbly in this society all their own. Students under the way of the Shadow Assassin's way of life will be trained here, every day, from dawn until dusk, for their entire lives until they are deemed worthy of entering society with their talents. It's here that the story begins, and here that our hero wakes for another day.
As the young assassins rose from their beds for another day of slave-driving to improve themselves, there yet remained a slacker still snug in his bed, dreaming of his life outside the temple which he has lived all his life. After every other person outside remained counted for, a senior member bursted into the dorms in which the slowpoke remained.
This man had a red beard that was incredibly rugged, and towered over most others at 7 feet tall. He still seemed to have a considerate and compassionate look to him, somehow. This, however, was no longer obvious as he practically glowed in anger at the pathetic display before him. As the man tensed his fists, the boy, in his dreaming, rolled off his bed and smashing onto the hardwood floor.
Opening his eyes drowsily, he looked up at the 7 foot hulk. "...Oh, shit." he stated plainly and with barely any emotion, still taking in his surroundings and still half asleep. "'OH SHIT' IS RIGHT! GET THE HELL OUT THERE NOW! MOVE IT!" the man boomed. The boy could've sworn the entire dorm was about to collapse in on itself and fall straight down to hell. But maybe it was just his imagination. Nevertheless, he got on his feet and quickly put his hat on and attaching a pair of claws to his hands. His clothes were already on, so he needn't worry about that.
When he got outside, the sun was still rising, just starting to rise from over the horizon. This was the usual day, alright, straight down to the aches all over his body from yesterday, the day before that, and so on. Today was a big day for him, however. It was on this day that he would finally be taught how to swallow poison. For as long as he could remember, his body was being constantly trained to resist poison, as is required of every assassin, but today would finally be when he would learn how to use that training offensively.
And so he steps up to the line his fellow peers have formed in front of their instructor, and stands in wait. The instructor finally acknowledges his presence after a few seconds, and gives the boy a death glare. "And finally, the one we've all been waiting for. Zen, would you care to tell everyone why you're 5 minutes late? We've been waiting here, 'shooting the breeze', as you younger people would say, and all I've gotten from you is a slouch, tired eyes and clothes that smell like all types of shit. I miss MY generation here, when everything was-" blah blah blah.
The boy always kind of disliked it when people said his name. Not that it was a bad name or anything, but he always got made fun of for it as a kid, getting called names like "pacifist pussy", or "nutjob". Not because of how he is, oh no, he simply gets ripped on for the meanings behind his name. Since everyone has matured since those times, such name calling has ceased, but he'll never forget it.
"Anyway, I don't care why you're late." he says, finishing his lecture that Zen had totally ignored. "We have a very special and highly ranked guest coming today. Be on your best behavior for him. If you manage to make us look bad in any way in his presence, you'll be up shit creek without a paddle!" he finishes just as a man walks up a set of stairs in the distance.
No one seems to see him at the moment except for Zen. He locks eyes with this man for a moment. This mysterious man dressed in formal purple clothes, a red and yellow hammer sheathed at his side, red balloons on his back, and a giant purple top hat.
As they're firmly locked in a gaze with each other, the man simply waves at him, as if teasing him, or urging to follow him. Zen comes back to reality as the instructor finishes off yet another speech.
"With that, you're dismissed until further notice. There will be no training today due to this visit, so I suggest you spend today doing whatever you want. Just try not to cause any trouble with ANYONE, alright?!" and with that, the instructor walks off in the opposite direction, down into the area marked for senior members only. Zen's heart sinks at the realization that today isn't the day where he can drink poison. Funny how that works.
The crowd disperses, and Zen looks at the area where the man was, only to find he's nowhere in sight. With that, he heads for the area where the man was last seen at. His curiosity was raised, as that man had a certain... aura about him, though Zen was unsure what that meant. As he walks up a staircase leading to the set of stairs where the man stood, Zen felt a sudden rush head towards him from behind.
Turning around, he blocks the attack at the last second, pushing back his attacker. The figure does a few flips backwards with precise accuracy, landing a few steps lower than Zen, and raises to his feet. It was clear that it was the purple man from before.
He looks straight at Zen and flashes an innocent smile at him. The silent tension could be cut with a knife at this point. Both get into a fighting stance and rush each other at the same time, Zen's claws coming straight into contact with the man's hammer.
And then, the sound of steel clashing, followed by complete silence.