The Dagger of Shadows

[stevebarracuda]

This is the tale of Sino Zo.

Many a man has been driven to madness for a great love. Some men carry on in times of great dispair and futility because of it, a fuel to a inner fire that would only diminish along side their own death.

It is only the truly evil that understand how the power within love can corrupt, twist and manipulate all but those of the strongest of wills.

This tale of Sino Zo begins with a desire to have love, to be loved...but in this weakness for it, Sino was a lost soul even before the traps had been laid by others...

Yet, the unknowns that exist within the dark places—the ally ways, the deepest caverns, the moonless nights upon the open tradeway—can be equally a power to fear, as to harness...if one is willing to make the sacrifice.

[stevebarracuda]

*reserved*

[stevebarracuda]

Story 01.02

The alleyway is dark, but not complete blackness. The sky over Baldur's Gate is red, azure, orange and yellow...with enough sunlight still above to make the shadows crawl from wall, to ground, and back again.

The man known as Sino Zo stands idle on the edge of doorway built into a faceless wall, within this untraveled part of the city, on the edge of what visible light that still pierces the impending darkness. He is arms length from the door, a door which stands slightly ajar, showing a crack into a room that holds even a deeper darkness, not only an absence of light, but a darkness of a kind that pierces the soul of Man, when they can no longer resist...or, when they open themselves to it, willingly.

Sino slowly reaches with his hand to push the door wider with a desire to see inside, and as he makes this action, his memory flashes in double-time the fateful event of the recent past...:

One evening, as the sun fell below the ramparts of the Gate, and shadow descended throughout the cities, young Sino Zo observed a man moving from shadow to shadow, as if a black sheet of paper would fold in upon itself. It took Sino all his skills in observation and dexterity to follow this individual through the alleys, Sino being enraptured by whatever power this man held that let him so freely walk unnoticed. Sino followed, followed as close as he could to the man-shadow, never knowing if he could keep pace....then, in an instant, a shadow opened in front of Sino, encompassing Sino...and in this fretful moment, Sino only remembered a pair of burning red eyes, before collapsing under a great, dark weight, a blast of black energy....

Sino awoke. Darkness, except for a single candle casting flickers of light into a cavernous place. He laid on the ground. Sino attempted to sit up, and as he did, shadow flashed between the candle light and the darkness, quickly, all around him. He cowered in fear, a growing anger in him from being unable to comprehend the situation. The shadow danced again and more fervently, then, a flash of silver in the light, and Sino reeled from a slice of a weapon that cut through his forearm. Eyes open, Sino saw a dagger dancing within limbs of shadow, covered with fresh blood, his blood. The dagger danced closer than through the candle flame. Words were spoken, and then sparks of light burst from the blood that laid upon the dagger. Sino's brain began to reel—he could no longer look away from the dagger, nor the blood, nor the flame....a flame that grew larger, and larger, as the dagger danced and the blood boiled in sparks off the dagger. Again, the dagger, wielded by shadow, attacked him. Over and over this happened, always returning to the growing flame with fresh blood upon it...and the flame grew so large that Sino could no longer see anything else....until a form—a woman—seemed to come out from the flame, and a voice boomed in his head: "Take the weapon, take it to survive, take power from those that would wound you, let your blood be your oath to me...I will give you life...I will give you the strength you desire...grasp the dagger...give your soul to me....take it NOW, or it will be your death...." Sino reached for the dagger, and as he did so, his lips parted with the word "Yes...."

The fury of the moment caused Sino to move quick, grasping the dagger from the shadow before it could cut him again...and then Sino screamed in mortal agony as the dagger burned epic heat through its hilt, through his hand, upwards through his arm and over his entire body. Overwhelmed, Sino collapsed upon the floor, unconscious, yet still grasping the weapon as it nothing else mattered but to hold on....

The warmth against his chest was that which woke Sino. He was alone upon the floor, shredded but alive, and against his breast he still clutched the dagger. The dagger spoke to him, spoke in a way more than mere words: "I am might, I am power....I am yours...you will be mine..." Moving slowly, Sino stood and observed his surroundings. In this room there was nothing but him, the dagger and the now burned out candle. Nothing except a single door leading out in the streets...


Sino paused his outstretched arm and hand a centimeter from the door. His other hand rested upon the hilt of a black steel dagger, glinting slightly green and venomous in his belt. He thought to himself: "This is my birthing place. From this moment, from her grace, I am washed anew in strength without limits." Never had Sino felt such warmth as this, in his life, until now.

A life he would give, in an instant, for his powerful mistress. Someday soon, he would know her in the flesh. Until then, he would let the dagger guide him. Guide him to become one with the shadows...

Sino lowered his arm, and slowly backed away from the door, leaving it slightly ajar, as it must have remained since the moment he walked out of that room, walked out of that memory...

He continued to back away slowly until the shadows cast by the high walls around him wrapped him completely in a blanket of lightlessness.

The Dagger of Shadows is born.

[stevebarracuda]

Story 01.02

Sino Zo stands quiet and still in a corner alcove of the Shelf of Many Books. In this far back room, amongst the flickering candlelight and the tomes of old, he looks downward at the wooden floor, carfully examining the grain on the well worn boards, seeking any little sign of what he feels in his chest, when he stands here—a feeling he can only describe to himself as a bubbling fury of blackness, a sense of a blazing hot ooze that would pour over your body and smother ones lifeblood.

Walking a small circle within this alcove, Sino knows deep within that he was here once before, that some act of great importance transpired here, and that it left an indelible but invisible mark within his body...but what mystery lies hidden here, he cannot unlock from the recesses of his mind.

The cold night wind rattles the window set into the wall in front of him, and it pulls Sino out of his wondering. He listens carefully to the room. Only the creaking of floorboards. He looks upon the walls, but the books have nothing to say.

Looking to the window, he sees his reflection in the dull, lead glass panes. Pulling back his hood, Sino looks into his reflected blue eyes in the warped glass, wondering what these eyes must have seen.

There are no obvious answers for him, now, in this place.

Sino's hand unconsciously raises and drifts gently onto the hilt of a dagger snug carefully into his belt. His fingers lightly stroke the weathered handle, and for a moment, an expression of comfort flashes across his face.

After some time waiting in this place, waiting on the chance that some information will present itself, he turns and walks quietly to the door. As he leaves the room of the library, Sino turns his head and looks one more time at the corner of the room with a look of longing curiosity...and then in an instant, Sino's body bends flat and sideways in space, fading into the darker shadows cast by a nearby bookshelf.

The Dagger of Shadows will return here, someday, and learn the truth about this place.

[stevebarracuda]

Sino stands in the silence of invisibility, in front of the well that every day of his childhood, he fetched water for the family. It is a place—and a memory—that seems a thousand leagues away...a history that no longer defines him, so he thinks.

But, a history does exist.

Born in Baldur's Gate, he was the only son of Blake and Gurny Zo, simple folk which happily lived the simple merchant's life, a life that disgusted Sino from as early as he could remember. His parents were very much in love, so much so that they had nor sought out a better life, nor status beyond their happy marriage. Sino considered his birth an afterthought to their love, a love that was so strong and binding, but one he never felt from either, nor rejoiced in. Love, happiness, togetherness...these things seemed as worthless to Sino as anything else, and he grew to care in little but his own desires, desire of becoming something, something respectable, someone of power...unintentionally wishing to become someone that others would want, just as much as his parents wanted each other.

He would, however, never freely admit that latter desire, to anyone, but most importantly, himself.

Sino cared litte for the simple merchant's life, and as his parents worked daily at it, he deftly slipped away from the business to wander the markets of the Gate, nimbly sampling the wares of other merchants, and taking to the shadows when necessary, to avoid being caught performing these petty crimes. The shadows of the alleys became more comfortable than the plazas, Sino found. At night, he would leave his home and travel though the city, spying through windows and peering out of the shadows to observe the more powerful, wealthier people, in hopes that he could learn something from them, and if not learn, acquire something powerful enough from them to enrich himself.

Then one evening, as the sun fell below the ramparts of the Gate, and shadow descended throughout the cities, Sino observed a man moving from one dark place to another, as if a black sheet of paper would fold in upon itself, disappear then re-appear seconds later. It took Sino all his skills in observation and dexterity to follow this individual through the alleys, Sino being enraptured by whatever power this man held. Sino followed, followed as close as he could to the man-shadow....but in an instance and moment he did not prepare for, the shadow opened in right in front of Sino, encompassing Sino in its folds...and in this fretful moment, Sino only remembered a pair of burning eyes, before collapsing under a great, dark weight, a type of blast of black energy....

Sino awoke. Around him only darkness, except for a single candle casting flickers of light into a cavernous place. He was laid upon the ground. Sino attempted to sit up, and as he did, shadow flashed between the candle light and the darkness, quickly, all around him. He cowered in fear, a growing anger in him from being unable to comprehend the situation. The shadow danced again and more fervently, then, a flash of silver in the light, and Sino reeled from a slice of a weapon that cut through his forearm. Eyes open, Sino saw a dagger dancing within limbs of shadow, covered with fresh blood, his blood. The dagger danced closer than through the candle flame. Words were spoken, and then sparks of light burst from the blood that laid upon the dagger. Sino's brain began to reel—he could no longer look away from the dagger, nor the blood, nor the flame....a flame that grew larger, and larger, as the dagger danced and the blood boiled in sparks off the dagger. Again, the dagger, wielded by shadow, attacked him. Over and over this happened, always returning to the growing flame with fresh blood upon it...and the flame grew so large that Sino could no longer see anything else....until a form—a woman—seemed to come out from the flame, and a voice boomed in his head: "Take the weapon, take it to survive, take power from those that would wound you, let your blood by your oath to me...I will give you life...I will give you the strength you desire...grasp the dagger...give your soul to me....take it NOW...." Sino reached for the dagger, and as he did so, his lips parted with the word "Yes...."

The fury in the moment caused Sino to move quick, grasping the dagger from the shadow before it could cut him again...and then Sino screamed in mortal agony as the dagger burned epic heat through its hilt, through his hand, upwards through his arm and over his entire body. Overwhelmed, Sino collapsed upon the floor, unconscious, yet still grasping the weapon as it nothing else mattered but to hold on....

The warmth against his chest was that which woke Sino. He was alone upon the floor, shredded but alive, and against his breast he still clutched the dagger. The dagger spoke to him, spoke in a way more than mere words: "I am might, I am power....I am yours...you will be mine..." Moving slowly, Sino stood and observed his surrounds. In this room there was nothing but him, the dagger and the now burned out candle. Nothing except a single door leading out in the streets, a new world, maybe not in itself, but for Sino, a corrupting path of power has been granted him through this possession of a dagger that speaks to him in loving energy....

The moment of reverie past, and Sino moved a step back from the well. It was time he cut away all that was his past, and embrace whatever reached out from the darkness to embrace him.

Still, his emotions were chaotic: who am I, what am I? These were Sino's thoughts as well. Unconsciously, Sino's hand reached to his belt to fondly grasp the warm hilt of the dagger that was snug in it's sheath...