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You wanted to know the whole story about my life? The short version left you curious about how an Elven ex-ninja joined the ranks of the Master's maids? Well, I suppose I could bore you of my backgrounds. I suggest you grab something to eat, it is quite a long story.

The best way to start a story is the beginning. Unfortunately, there is only so much I can remember about my childhood, my homeland. My heritage is that of an Elf obviously, one who is often stereotyped as snooty and crass (or extremely lewd) to the other races of this vast world. I know that as an Elf, I was raised in a seclusive forest that the common human knew little to nothing about save the name and its sacredness: The Forest of Hope. I have never known its true location and I fear I will never find it in my lifetime. I never knew the names of my parents, and I have long since forgotten my true name. My parents had typical roles in the elf community, my father being a warrior and my mother a...I suppose what you would call a nurse. She treated everyone's injuries and required medical attention. Healers are necessary for Elves since we don't truly die of old age, but can die of bodily harm. Both of my parents helped me form who I am today. My father taught me how to look at my surroundings and analyze them, to understand why the animals acted upon their instincts and how we Elves were mightier for acting upon our wisdom. My mother taught me the skills of healing properly, that everything can be fixed as long as you keep a steady mind and a calm heart. And the Elven community taught me about music, the arts, everything that a civilized society should truly know. It was peaceful. Truly a peaceful time.

Sadly, that is all I remember of my young childhood in my peaceful land. It was when I was at the age of 13 where everything began to

unfurl into chaos. As I mentioned before, The Forest of Hope is a sacred land to the nearby civilizations of mankind. From what I remember my parents informing me, the Forest's edge offers precious crops and fertile soil throughout the year, no matter the weather. This allowed the towns and villages to live without fear of depleting their food storage, which allowed them less mental worry about food and more time for intellectual though. They respected The Forest's ever-giving bounty of food by not disturbing the animals and spirits within. This meant nothing to the infrequent poachers and foreign travelers, who beseech and take as they please. I apologize, I did not mean to talk so long about my homeland. Before I continue, I must warn you that the next part is not so pleasant.

It was a cool autumn day, the trees were preparing for Winter while the animals prepared for hibernation. I was 13 at the time, gleefully ignorant of the turmoil wind picking up ever so softly amongst the sky, scrounging amongst the ground for various dyes to help my mother paint a mural of the family. They came out of nowhere--five people jumping from the nearby bushes and running straight at me. There was almost no time to react. The fight or flight scenario. I chose to run. I criss-crossed, weaved, ducked and dodged behind everything my tender body could do in order to confuse my chasers. Just couldn't shake them, one was always following me in some way or another. It was later in life that I realized the futility of what choice I made in flight or fight--I was weak and could not defend myself against the quintet physically. Flight was useless too--they eventually cornered me against a natural dirt wall, ganged up on me and assaulted me until I fell unconscious.

When I came to, I was locked in a small, cold, dirty metal cage. My clothing was removed, I attempted to remain covered up with the rags that were my bed.  The five that captured me were in the same room as me, laughing and hooting it up as if they caught a legendary beast alive and were off to sell it to the presses. I was in the corner of a large room where I had some access to what they looked like via candle light. The first two I saw of them were child-like, one a girl with pigtails and the other a boy with a wrinkled red cap and shirt from memories past. Another was short but freakish-looking, a disfigured face with arms longer than his legs. He had a horrible speech impediment, one that made him sound mentally diseased and had a laugh that still rings in my head. There was a bulky one. Easily 2 meters tall, a sluggish but muscular man who had the appearance that he could lift massive slabs of rock with no trouble. The last one was also tall, though he was more fat than the hulking man before. He gave off that air of superiority, one that says "I'm the leader of this group." His hair was well groomed, his face pudgy and with a small mustache that looked drawn on by a marker. Most of his clothing was greasy and unwashed from long nights out, but his tie stood out. Clean, bright red and made of perhaps the finest silk that even an Elven tailor would be envious of. Makes me wonder if he stole it from a fellow Elf or if he had conducted business matters with a poacher who did.

The group spoke softly but firmly. My head was fuzzy from the assault before, I could barely understand their conversation at the time. I did catch one thing: They had intentions to sell me as a...a common whore. The bulky man said something along the lines of "Gotta train the new broad, the men love the exotic creatures." My mind shut down at that point. The mentality of the whole situation came flooding in like a river bringing in nutrients to a barren land. I was not in my blessed Forest, my parents were not here to help me, no one knew who I was, those who did were no where nearby, and my future life was to be one of the most ultimate disgraces our people knew. I broke down crying and begging for my parents. The entourage just laughed at my misfortune and threw their garbage at me to silence my tears. I was so stressed out that lost consciousness.

I never knew what "training" they had in mind. I thank the spirits of all life every day that I never knew what they meant by "training." It was like someone had heard my cries of help, like the wind carried my sounds of despair and sorrow to the nearest Samaritan. Shortly after I woke up, the leader approached my cage and smiled. His unkempt attire and yellow stained teeth glistened unnaturally in the candle-lit room as he towered over my measly stasis cage.

"Looks like da sub-creacha finally woke up from her beauuuty rest!" he gurgled out. "Has we gots da poifect situation fur yas! You's gonna love being anudda hole for da biznis, I guarantee it! At least, you's betta love it if ya know wut's gud f'ya!"

I couldn't help but stare at my hideous kidnapper as he gloated my upcoming fate, there was little else to observe at the time. I wish I hadn't. I wish I had kept unconscious. His smile vanished in an instant, turning into a sickening grimace and roared like a bear stuck in a trap. A thin sword tip quickly emerged from his chest and left just as fast, the pressurized blood gushing through the open wound and onto me. I screamed and scurried to the other side of my cage, somehow thinking that the less blood splashed on me, the less likely I was to die. I shut my eyes tight and cowered in the corner, hearing various screams and thumps outside the cage. Several silent minutes passed before I opened my eyes to see a middle-aged man standing by the cage now. Dressed entirely in a common civilian attire, he carried a long sword with with blood coming from the base and dripping to the ground. A small package with other sharp weapons sticking out from the top laid heavily on his back, though he showed no discomfort bearing the load. It was obvious to anyone that he was no common civilian. But he had no ill intention in his eyes like the leader, more along the lines of pity and remorse. More minutes passed with no sound, no action. We just stared at one another, as if we were trying to understand the other through our souls.

"Are you okay?"

He broke the silence first. I nodded feverishly, hoping that if I agreed with him that he would spare my life.

"Hey, c'mon, c'mon. Calm down. You sure are lucky, y'know? Another night in here an' who knows where you'd 'a been. What'cha call yourself, darling?"

I opened my mouth. No words came out, only an embarrassing squeak. My mouth shut upon its answer, possibly to spare myself any more embarrassment.

"No name, eh? Shoot. Well, that's not a huge problem. Listen, I dunno where you come from, but you can come with me. I'm not the greatest of hosts, but I bet I'd be better than those chimps. Maybe I can even help you find your home."

Home. I wanted to go home. I wanted to cry again at the mention of going home to my parents. But he was right, he would definitely be better than the now deceased ruffians. I nodded violently again.

"Take it easy! It's okay. I won't hurt you. Stand up, let's get outta here."

 

His name was Ryo. Every time I'd ask for his real name, it was always Ryo or Sensei. I highly doubt it was Ryo, too common of a name for his occupation. We talked as we went to his home, how he became a shinobi and how he wanted to have children of his own but couldn't risk the idea of having people he cared for getting hurt. It was around this time where he came up with my name of Eliza.

"Why Eliza?" I questioned Sensei.

"Why not?" he guffawed. "Besides, I think it fits you. A beautiful, young woman needs an elegant but simple name, no? Too elegant of a name an' everyone will try t' steal ya again!" He laughed a lot. It was one of the things I liked about Sensei.

For the next 20 years, Sensei and I lived together in a small, abandoned home in the country-side that suited our basic needs. It was like a second home to me. I soon learned to forget my troubled past while Sensei taught me everything he knew about his abilities. How to stay out of view in plain sight, how to wield a weapon without letting your guard down, how to pickpocket a man without him even knowing you were there. He taught me how to...how to murder without feeling bad. "They deserved it, they were truly evil incarnate," as Sensei always said. He said that to make me feel better about it. Never really worked but I faked it to make him happy. We went on missions together. Simple things at first: Take an apple from the market without looking suspicious. Use your weapon of choice to incapacitate a mugger, not kill him. Escort an old woman across town while protecting her from strangers. The missions got harder to the point of being ludicrous. One mission involved both of us sharing a homemade scuba diving kit, a bee's nest, some smoke bombs, stealing a six-string guitar, and killing a member of the national embassy. We aced it. I felt invincible with Sensei as a team. At least I did anyways.

One day, an aging Sensei came up to me while I was meditating underneath the poplar tree near our home. He had an air to him of tranquility, one that seemed decided of what was to come. His shade covered the sun, and I looked up to see his greying eyes amongst his smiling--but sorrowed--face. It reminded me of the first time I saw him so long ago when he saved me.

"Stand up, Eliza." he softly ordered.

"Sensei, what's wrong?" I asked as I bolted off the ground.

"Take it easy!" he chortled before having a coughing fit. "Eliza, I'm growing too old t' continue being a shinobi. I've taught you everything I could. There is one mission left for you to accomplish before you, too, are a true shinobi like me."

"S-Sensei, you don't mean--" I sputtered. He wasn't asking for what I thought he was going to ask, was he?

"Sorry Eliza," he coughed. "I know it's a tough mission. And I know you care so much about me. But it's only when you can cut all ties from yer past can ya become a true shinobi. You cut those ties from those apes who took ya, and ya cut those ties from yer initial homeland. Now there's one last tie to cut."

It wasn't happening. Not like this. I know that humans have only so long to live, but I couldn't imagine Sensei dying. I began crying. It was happening again. My family was being taken away and I was losing the one person who cared for me these past 2 decades of my life. Worst of all, it was me who was doing it. Sensei consoled me and gave me a hug, putting his grizzly goatee on my shoulder.

"There, there. You've been the best thing t' ever happen t' me these past 20 years. I never had a child t' call my own. But havin' you with me these past years...Eliza, it was you that made my life worth it. Now please, make it painless." I felt a tear hit my shoulder.

...

Sensei taught me how to murder without feeling bad. Never really worked but I faked it to make him happy. But one thing differed from all the other missions--Sensei was not evil incarnate. Still, I faked it as much as I could as I...as I...I still miss you Sensei.

 

Days passed onto weeks, weeks turning to months, and months to years. It was all in the wind to me. Living as a shinobi by yourself isn't as bad as you think. You can still easily go into town and talk with pedestrians while buying/taking your lunch from a local vender. The sights you see as you strip valuables from passing caravans or museums is truly astounding. It's simply awe-striking to see how fast a government can fall apart when you assassinate a foreign leader and make it look like an accident. But I digress. It was a good 10 years ago or so, I had accidentally stumbled across the young Master regarding a mission I was on. The Delacroix family knew the location of a massive jewel in a fabled "Cave of Wonders." Gotta love the explorers of the family. I talked with the young Master, seeing if he was let on about the location. After all, it wouldn't be the first time that a rebellious teenager going against his family was the solution to my troubles. He knew nothing, but he seemed really interested in me. Probably because I was the first Elf he ever saw in person. I never told him my name was Eliza; like Sensei, I made up names as I traveled so I wouldn't be tracked so easily. I don't even remember what I could have used as my falsified identity at the time, Victoria? The Master opened up to me as we talked throughout the weeks. Things like how he was interested in playing the drums, how he liked to play pranks on his family out of boredom, so on and so forth. I knew he didn't really care about me as much as I did for him, he just wanted to vent out his frustrations. But it was truly soothing to have a friend like Master who was relaxed and didn't care about the politics of the world like most of my missions revolved around. Eventually I found out the information I needed from a filing cabinet in the mansion's office and headed off in the night without letting him know. I always wonder if he remembers me from forgotten pasts or if I'm just "another strange Elf from the corner of the world to work as a maid/slave." Got the jewel, a huge ruby the size of your head and worth more money than our yearly incomes combined.

Unfortunately, things started to slow down after my encounter with the Master. He wasn't a bad luck charm, but rather the world began to get shifty of my missions. The days became more and more distant in between missions, security increased tenfold from then-current events, and my face was starting to get noticed. Lousy Internet becoming so popular, you can't hide anything anymore. The last mission I participated in was yet another pilfering quest: Grab one of the Queen's royal crowns, replace it with a very similar but much less expensive crown, and return to the Black Market for payment. A 15 minute window to snatch it up, I could have it done and make tea before anyone noticed. Except it wasn't so easy. A few days before the mission,the Royal Guard had collected information about a "cat burglar" arriving in the city to snatch the crown. They did their sensible part, I suppose; a Royal Guard every 10 meters and the police keeping watch outside the Queen's castle. I'm surprised there wasn't a Queen-mobile in case someone sought to steal the crown right off Her Majesty's head. My anxiety shot through the roof, and as the time for the mission neared, I panicked. Something must have been triggered to my brain as a PTSD reaction to pass out when my anxiety reached critical mass. Yes, I panicked and fell asleep. I awoke to the time frame being missed, so no crown, no money. It was getting too risky for my mind to handle. I couldn't let something like that happen again and get in actual trouble with the law. The reasonable thing to do was get a low-key job, yet no one would hire me for my lack of credentials. Though if you were to ask of my opinion about why I couldn't get a job, it had to do with my race and the stereotypes that surround it: "You are an Elf, and as such, you will do incredibly lewd things to the customers and/or management to get higher up to overthrow our government." Just as I was about to give up and move back to Sensei's dilapidated home to live as a solemn hermit, I remembered something. Or someone, in this case. The Delacroix family. Perhaps the young Master could make use of my abilities as a cleaning maid. And a maid is pretty low-key, no one would potentially think a maid would be a murdering, stealing machine.

So that's my tale. I went back to the Delacroix mansion, asked for a position as a maid, and was accepted without credentials. It makes me wonder again if the Master chose me because he remembered me from so long ago or because I am an Elf and it would be quite the conversation piece. "Yeah, I've got an Elf maid, no biggie." But I digress. If you want to know more about my past in more detail, such as some of my missions, that will be for another day.