"SELL ME SOMETHING WITH C!" The merchant shouted. It had been a long, busy day, and his voice was hoarse from the endless shouting. Sweat dribbled down his face, hanging on the tip of his nose for a brief second, then falling to the ground, making a small splatter. His face was dirty and marked from the long hours of fruitful business, and his wallet was feeling a bit hefty from his profits.

Sighing, he stood and stretched, looking at the sky. It was clear, not a cloud in sight, and the sun was just above the top of the mountains. It was a bit early to close up, but it didn't matter; he had made a rather exceptional haul, much more than usual. The missus would be pleased, and he could give the illusion that he had put in full time by spending some time at the bar.

He turned and kneeled, folding up the old cloth he sat on during business. He placed it inside a basket and stood once again, hefting the handle of the basket over his shoulder. He turned in the direction of the bar and immersed himself into the large, bustling throng of shoppers, workers, and civilians who were just out for a walk. As he pushed through the crowd, he caught snippets of the individual conversations that made the large, incomprehensible roar that always occupied the Town Square:

"So then his cuccoo got stuck in the chimney, and it was the funniest--"

"Lemme tell ya, next time I need to get somewhere, I'm not using that cannon, that clown scares the--"

"Did you hear about the kidnapping?"

"Kidnapping? Oh my!"

The merchant slowed down to get the rest of the conversation; this sounded interesting...

"Yes--but then the kid woke up! Ohohohoho!"

He gave an exasperated sigh and sped up again. It was just those twins, both of them were nothing but fools, always messing around and juggling...

"Made quite a lot today, didn't you?"

The merchant took a while to realize that the last question was directed at him. He turned and greeted a man who appeared to be in his thirties and had a warm, reassuring smile. The merchant returned the smile and nodded. "Aye, more than I've ever made before, quite a load. Yes, business is booming."

Immediately following his reply, the merchant thought he saw the stranger's eyes flash for a second. The next second, the flash disappeared.Must have just been the sun, it is over my shoulder after all.The merchant concluded as he extended his hand in greeting. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

The stranger took the merchant's hand and shook it firmly. He had a rather rough-textured hand, and the merchant swore he felt scars on it. "Well, actually, I was trying to sell this trunk that my missus can't stand having in the house anymore, you wouldn't mind taking a look at it, would you? It's in great condition."

The merchant nodded and greed began to take him over. I could trick this guy into selling it to me at less than what it's worth, then sell it for a huge profit....this has been a great day after all. "Sure, where is it?"

The stranger beckoned over his shoulder to an alleyway. The cabinet was laying on it's side, not far into the alley, and the merchant saw that it was indeed very high quality--and pretty tall as well. The two men walked over that way and the stranger placed a hand on it. "I told you it was in good condition, how much do you think I could get for it?"

The merchant observed the alley--it was well lit by the sun, and there were a few windows where the houses formed the walls. He rubbed his chin and then ran a hand down the side of the cabinet. "Well, that really depends on how old it is and what it's made of. This feels pretty shaky and insecure, you probably couldn't get much out of it. But I like ya, so I'll give you a good deal, say--URK!"

It all happened in a second. The stranger grabbed the bottom of the cabinet and yanked it up so it stood in front of the two of them. Out of one of the windows came another man, dressed in a blood red tunic with a brown trim on the sides and down the middle. He slid a garrote around the merchant's throat and pulled back on it, sending the metal assassin's weapon into the merchant's flesh, all the way to the bone. The stranger opened the cabinet and the convulsing body of the merchant fell into it. Not even a drop of blood reached the ground, it all pooled in the cabinet.

Reaching into his tunic, the assassin pulled out a stamp. Dipping the bottom of it into the pool of blood, he stamped the back of the merchant's neck. In another second, the cabinet tipped over, the doors closed on impact, and the two murderers were gone with the sack of rupees they had grabbed off the corpse.

An hour later, the last pink rays of sunlight were shining down upon the Square as all hell broke loose. A group of children had been playing Hide and Seek, and one of the more adventurous ones had ran down an alleyway and found the perfect hiding place. There was a cabinet laying on the ground, and he pulled the doors open, ready to jump in. He froze with his foot half raised, then let out a shrill scream.

Saber was walking through the Square, intending to buy a few more bandages; he had been running out steadily from all the cuts and bruises he got from his missions. He enjoyed the piece and quiet that came at the end of the day, when people were finally going home from the loud heckling and betting that always took place throughout the day. That's when his eardrum almost burst from one of the most high-pitched sounds he had ever heard--the child's scream.

Placing a hand on the hilt of his saber, he rushed to the alleyway and grabbed the child, placing him down away from the cabinet. Slowly, he walked over to the fine piece of carpentry and looked inside. What he saw made him gasp. It wasn't the corpse that frightened him; in fact, he wasn't even frightened. He was more astonished at something else--the symbol on the back of the body's neck. A red rabbit's foot. "They can't be....is it really...?" Stepping back, he stared at the wall in disbelief. There's no way that they are here....but this means.... He was interrupted by a convulsive sob behind him.

Turning to the small boy, he took him in his arms and held him, then walked him out to the square, making sure to keep the cabinet blocked from the child's sight as so many thoughts and scenarios ran through his head.

OOC: For those of you who read all the way through this, I thank you. It took forever to type...anyways, this is how I'm starting my story. This really isn't the story itself, but more of an introduction, it could take up to a month to get the main story going. Anyways, you can post here, in case you were wondering...just no going after the thiefs and such, that's not the point of this.

Dogura, resting on the tin roof of the coffee shop that he normally rested on during sun sets, nearly fell off the roof upon hearing a horrible shreik. A child! Dogura thought, jerking up. His mind racing, as he grabbed his sheathed sword which was resting beside him, he lept off the roof, and searched for anything suspicious. Thinking back to the scream, it sounded as if to come directly to the west, which was right up market square. Taking off in a cloud of dust, he stopped on a dime upon seeing Saber. He was carrying a child, and Dogura knew that Saber must have been quicker to the scene then he.

People were beggining to crowd around the man, until they saw Dogura, who even in the greatest of moods, looked somehow aggressive. The man always questioned that trait, but digressed as he approached Saber. The first thing he noticed is that the child wasn't harmed; physically anyways. Saber had noticed him, but Dogura hesitated to speak. Saber's face revealed confusion, frusteration, disbeliefe, and concern all at the same time. Dogura didn't need his acute senses to tell him that something had gone wrong, even if nobody had been harmed. He was searching for the right thing to say, but found no words. All he could think to ask was: "What happened Saber?..."

Saber couldn't think straight. So many things rushed through his head, one memory blurring into the next...the past eleven years passed by in eleven seconds...the Square vanished, and he suddenly found himself in a familiar scene....

The small boy began to put his father's mutilated corpse into the grave when he froze. On the nape of the man's neck, there was a mark. Not just a mark; a stamp. It seemed to be stamped in blood, and it was a closed, bent ellipse....a rabbit's foot, he recognized.

That one memory went by seemingly in slow motion, and then, as soon as he saw the mark, everything sped by again....him, picking up the blade....finally collapsing in grief a few days later....years of endless travel, scarcely living off the land...then, entering Hyrule and setting up a mercenary service....Now it all came full circle. Just a few seconds ago, the mark that had haunted him for eleven years had been right in front of him. In a haze of confusion, he nearly missed Dogura's comment, and he suddenly broke through the haze and returned to the present.

"I....it's.....that man who was killed over there....he...the neck..." He couldn't even bear to mention it; couldn't even utter a complete sentence. It was impossible. After all this time, after eleven years of searching and enduring the elements, it was happening. There just wasn't any way. A tear ran from the corner of his eye, down his nose.

Dogura couldn't seem to make out what the dazed man was trying to say. Placing two fingers on his forehead, Dogura began the familiar process of peering into another's thoughts. As he entered the first phase of the mind reading process, he leveled his aura with Saber's. Second step was to calm his mind, and clear it of all other images. Third, and final step, was to flow energy through the air, and connect with the thoughts of Saber. If Dogura could describe what he saw, he wouldn't have the chance. A shock was sent all the way through the samurai's body, as his body shook violently. Nearly falling off balance, Dogura stared in utter amazement. Whatever had just happened, it had been the result of too many thoughts and memories, powerful emotions, and an unstable level of aura emanting from the man's thoughts.

A somber moment of silence filled the air. Keese were beginning to take flight into the sky of the setting sun that beckoned the spirits of the night. Dogura couldn't find the right words to say, which seemed to be a problem as of late. It was at that moment, that Dogfura froze. A shiver was sent up his spine, and he automativally knew. It was that time again... "Saber, I'm terribly sorry, but I have to take my leave right now. I'll be back with you tomorrow." Speeding off, the samurai darted forn his home. It had become apparent why the man had left so quickly. Tonight was that a full moon, and it wouldn't be long before a struggle between man and demon would take place withing Dogura. As much as he wanted to help, Dogura had prioritized, and he had to be home in his containement center... and fast.

Saber barely realized Dogura's attempt to pry into his thoughts--he was too engrossed to feel anything. All these years...finally coming to an end. I should be happy....why am I not happy? Or am I happy? What exactly....what exactly am I?I can't....I can't even think straight.....this blade.... He slowly looked down towards his blade. It's thirst shall finally be quenched....yet I feel nothing from it....we've been together eleven years....I've always felt the mood of the blade...but I feel nothing....or do I? Perhaps I feel....

Dogura's departure was just as unnoticed as his arrival had been--perhaps even more so. Saber sat there for another hour or so, then finally took to his feet chakily, and began to walk, his eyes empty, his expression...nonexistent. He trudged his way to an inn across the square, absentmindely fumbled for the payment and placed it on the table, and took the key without any acknowledgement that the tires, overworked innkeeper was there. He slowly walked up to the room marked on the card and sat on the bed. He had an alleyside room--through the window, he saw the cabinet, and the merchant inside. The mark--the mark was there as well.

Even after the guards had come and taken the body, he continued to stare at that spot, seeing the merchant laying in a pool of his own blood...then, another image overlapped it, with the same mark in the same place--that of a man in his late thirties, his jet black, messy hair dampened in sweat with dirt stuck in it, in a puddle of his own blood, his tunic stained.....his father....