Chapter 1: A Fatefull Discovery

Naruto walked along the forest meadow. He was a young, happy child for the most part. Out there, his blond locks would move freely with the wind, his nose was filled with various wonderful scents, his bare skin was caressed by all sorts of wonderful sensations, from lilting winds to silverish flowers. It was a wonderful time for the child, away from the people that so much disliked him. But it was more than that. Naruto always, always, had this special connection with nature around him. Flowers would seem to bow and animals left him in peace. Maybe it was his innocence, maybe something more, something divine. Naruto would never know, nor care for the most part.

It was a wonderful place. A lake, with a small waterfall feeding it. Some rocks, appearing like protrusions of silver with the play of light in the water, adorned the bank. A fox lapped up some water, looked at Naruto and promptly went back to slating it's thirst, unconcerned. A bird landed on the kid's shoulder. It pecked him gently in the ear once, let out a single note of utmost clarity and flew away. The place was magical to Naruto, even if noone would have believed him. So, the boy decided to take a dip into the small lake. It seemed safe enough. Not to mention it would relieve some of the heat this summer had brought. Without further ado then, the boy removed his clothes, placed them on a branch and dove in.

The child played around a bit, enjoying the cool feelings, the games the fish would play with him. As he dove once more under the water, something caught the child's eye. It was a box, unlike any he had ever seen. Overrun with childish curiosity, he grabbed it and, with some exertion, pulled it ashore. It seemed old, very, very old. Almost older than Ji-chan, the Hokage. It was covered in leaves that Naruto had never seen before, wrapped in ropes more supple than he had ever seen before.

Naruto looked around for a way to open it and he found it. It was a small latch which easily came undone. The top part of the box fell off easily enough, revealing the inside. It was covered in wax, making sure that whatever was inside would be protected and preserved. In the middle was what seemed to be a large velvet bag, shaped much like a pillow. On the pillow was the largest, weirdest book little Naruto had ever seen. It was a tome, leatherbound, thick and heavy. It had several pictures on it, but no words. Shadows, moons, blades and knives decorated the exterior of the book, some in silver, some in pen, some even in semi-prescious stones.

The boy needed to use both hands to pick up the large book, so bit it was almost as large as his torso. He opened it and looked at the first page. Ink swiveled and moved around, as if re-arranging something that was written before, before finally stopping in a legible writing that Naruto could easily read somehow. It said: "Blades and Shadows - By Firavel Duali".

It was a strange name, rolling off funny off his tongue. It brought with it some ancient, primal even, sensation of shadow and darkness. Undeterred, Naruto turned the page...

"I refuse to be a mere memory.

How long has it been since I told that to my father? Seven hundred and forty winters have passed since I broke off of my 'family', seven hundred and forty winters since I left the Guild, my mother and all that I knew. Did I ever regret it? Yes, often. Would I have ever chosen differently? No, never.

Had I stopped, had I hesitated, I would have been forgotten already, a memory long since run it's course. But I refuse! I refuse to bow down to this pathetic fate! I will NOT be forgotten! I will not be a memory! I will be a legend, beyond all else!

It's been six hundred years since we broke up, the others and I. Some died, others aged, the last quit to live quietly in a faraway place, trying to forget the horrors we faced - and killed. Cowards. They will be forgotten. I will not. For in this book lies my history, my life, my existence, my... essense.

So, reader... Whoever you may be, whenever you may be, wherever you may be... Turn the page... and learn of Firavel Duali, the Shadow Elf, the Shadow Lotus Assassin that became a Warden. And remember, most importantly than everything... remember.

Should however you wish to do something more than merely reading of my exploits... I can help. I see it even now, the Elven Age is ending, the world is dieing, the dwarves are diminishing and the humans are loosing whatever it was that drove them so, this ambition that seems to have passed to even our blood. In order to be remembered, to safeguard this final part of me, this final part of my Legacy... I have created this book. I have stored my soul's essense, my source of power. If judged worthy, you may receive that power and become a legend reborn, a Shadow Elf. I... no... WE... will never be mere memories.

We will live forever... as Legends!"

Naruto closed the book shocked. He could understand what he read, but he couldn't understand what they meant. Still, he knew that they were important. He had found something that noone else had. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he could feel the power coming out of the book. With quick motions, he opened the velvet bag, pushed the book inside, resealed it and set off to home to read it in peace. This... Firavel Duali guy, he sounded strong, very strong. Maybe as strong as Hokage-jiji. If he could learn from him, he would be the best ninja ever, he would become Hokage and change the world.

Once in the safety of his appartement, Naruto re-opened the book and began reading. It started with Firavel's childhood...

"Chapter One... My childhood...

I never had much of it really. Since I was able to walk, I was taught to run. Since I was able to hold my hand steady, I was taught to fight. Since I was able to think, I was taught to understand. It was a harsh, harsh life. I remember some things fondly however...

The sound of birds in the morning when I would visit my Father for lessons on aristocracy and their wiles. The smell of sweatbread and fruit-wine the cook made when I would see her. As the son, even illegitimate, of a wealthy Elven aristocrat, I was afforded several privileges. I learned and studied and trained instead of course. When not in my Father's manor, I was in my Mother's training rooms. Born...bred... raised... all for one thing; assassination.

Not that I knew at the time, nothing of the sword. To me, back then, using a sword to fight and strike a dummy at lethal points was the norm, what others would do as well. I merely believed I had more things to be expected of me. So I practiced with even greater fervor, a trait that even my children, and their children, seem to have inherited; total and absolute focus on the goal at hand.

But I digress. My Mother was such in name only. She never was motherly, or caring, or protective of me. If anything, she was harsh, spiteful and fierce. But not hateful. I think.

She was a DrowElf, one of the few that had adapted enough to live on the surface. Leader of the Shadow Lotus guild, the most dangerous assassins of all Shattered Lands.

She had chosen my father not on merit of love, or even lust. No, she chose him for his cunning, his logic, his ruthlessness as well as his physical ability. She mated with him, for I refuse to call this anything more than a mere animalistic rut, and used several ways to make sure to be left with child.

My father was, of course, incessed. Until they both realized they could use this, they could combine forces, for their gain if not for satisfying these 'urges' occasionally. My Mother did after all have high expectations. So, I was hidden away, the unholy, hated union between a Dark Elf and a Moon Elf, a Cursed and a Blessed.

I was the middle ground between the subdued, silvery light of the Moon and the utter, devouring, darkness of the Underdark. I was a shadow. In a... burst of inspiration, I was called a Shadow Elf, a name that surprisingly enough stuck with me for eight whole centuries.

Day in, day ought, I trained. I was tested, I was tried, I was almost torn apart to be rebuilt as they wished. Of course they failed, my race's stubborn focus on a single goal safeguarded my mind at least partially.

It was found that I had much latent magical power. I never trained to be a Sorcerer or a Wizard however, so it never developed past the basic level. But it was enough. My mother was... kind... enough to teach me how to use the Drow's skill with darkness. While I couldn't reproduce it, she managed to teach me a smattering of theories behind the use of Shadow Spells that I managed to harness my power. It formed into several shadow-linked powers of varying use and difficulty. First amongst them, and one of my favourites, was my version of the Arcane Spell: Alter Self.

I could hide my parentry. Initially, it was just skin tone changing, but later, I could use it to change completely from one race to another, even as far as looking like a human or halfling due to my age's height. After I had been sent on several missions, I began to develop another skill, one just as useful. I called it Shadow Port. Essentially, it's a jump from one large shadow to another, enabling me to escape capture or notice, entering or exiting a house at whim. The range was small, of course. But, it had its uses.

My first assassination was when I had just turned 25, a mere child by my race's beliefs. Considering we can live upwards of eight centuries, that's somewhat to be expected. It was my Mother's... birthday gift. A wealthy merchant that had defied a certain influetial person's will. That person being my Father.

I snuck that night into the man's bedroom as he slept with his wife. I took one of my blowgun's needles, already dipped in powerful poison. On my other hand, I kept one of my hand-made smokebombs. I was real proud of them, having created them by combining a sleeping agent with alchemical processes, to create a cloud of sleeping gasses. I crushed the orb in my hand, releasing the gas. I was kept safe by my face mask, which filtered out most air impurities. A touch of my poisoned needle, some healing balm to hide the wound and... the man was dead. He just hadn't realized it yet.

I suppose it was my younge age back then that led me to think. Was it really that easy? To take another life? He had had no chance, no choice in the matter. Much like... me. That had shocked me quite badly. It took me days to get out of my daze. Not because of the kill. That had passed mere seconds after. But... of my new fear, Oblivion, Nothingness. I realized then that I didn't belong in the Guild. I was different. I wanted acceptance, I wanted acknowledgement, I wanted to be known, feared or loved. I didn't want to die like that foolish man, in my bed, at night, by a shadowed figure. I wanted to leave my mark on this world.

But to do that... I would have to be the best. Not just the best Assassin. But the Best. The Best, so good that I would stand above all others, toppling legends. It was back then that I realized I would leave the guild, and soon. I began using my money and contacts, of which I had had plenty. I began slowly amassing my supplies. That night, seven hundred and sixty-two winters ago, on my birthday... I began my disassociation with the guild. Unlike most 'heroes' who come across some illuminating realization that hits them head-on like a dwarven anvil on poorly-prepared kobold trap, I began my journey long before I began walking.

Now, here I stand, so much time after that, watching the world go by as I stand unchanging, unchallenged, undefeated. I am a legend. But... legends die and are forgotten.

I will not be a memory.

I refuse to bow to that despiccable fate of Oblivion.

I am Firavel Duali, first Shadow Elf.

I WILL be remembered."

Naruto closed the book, the author's words swirling through his head. He still couldn't grasp many things, but he did get the general gist. That man... he was like him. Forced into a world not of his choosing, forced into a lifetime not of his choosing. Well, he wouldn't be Uzumaki Naruto if he wouldn't change the world! He, too, would be a legend! He wouldn't be forgotten!

Naruto slept that night with the book in his arms. In the morning, he had failed to notice that his skin had become slightly darker, as if it was slowly changing color... to that of warm ebon. Firavel's essense had accepted him.

A/N: DAMN YOU PLOT BUNNIES! DAMN YOUUUUU!

I just can't get rid of this plot bunny. Firavel Duali is my newest, and apparently, favourite DnD character. He is a Shadow Elf, a mixture between a Drow Elf and a Moon Elf. His class is Shadow Lotus Assassin, a combination of Rogue and Monk to replace the, pathetic, 3rd edition Ninja class. Shadow Lotus Assassins are a bit more forward, but much less damaging with their sneak attack. They make up for it with specialized weapons, better training, poisons and of course cunning. It might take a good Ninja to use Ghost Walk to infiltrate a place, but it takes a much, much better character to sneak into a magical fortress using nothing but extreme training, cunning, planning and raw skill. If anyone's interested, I could send it over for some more playtesting, though both the class and the race are a bit on the high-end scale, seeing as the Shattered Lands world I made is quite hard to survive in. If one can't adapt that is.

For those not fluent in Elven, or just don't have the book, Firavel means Dark Sword and Duali means Crescent Shadow.

This chapter has been beta-read by Libra of Fairy Tail, who I'm thinking of promoting to my regular Beta-Reader. She has some kick-ass ideas when she wants too. Trouble's fitting them with my completely mind-churning, brain-blasting ideas that I get. Ah well, 'tis the flavour of life!

Before I forget, Naruto's going to be quite a bit older than the other Rookie Nine and they are all going to start a few years later than the canon, at 15-16.