[Mkguild] 'Fate of the Shadow Master' Rev. 1

[a_lil_dudeinpr2 at hotmail.com]

Here's the first revision of 'Fate of the Shadow Master'

It mostly consist of a newly revamped ending, although some small changes a=
re present elsewhere.

-LurkingWolf

___________________________________________________________________________=
________

Fate of the Shadow Master
By LurkingWolf

December the 1st, in the year 707, Cristos Reckoning

    Lois counted off the days that he had been at the Keep for what had to =
be the hundredth time that night.  It was getting close now, the Curse now =
seemed to have almost a tangible presence about him.  He sometimes felt tha=
t he could touch it if he tried, but he would invariably just let himself t=
urn back within himself, using the iron will that his years of life had gra=
nted in return for his sufferings.  He would stay through the Curse, and he=
 would accept the results.

    He looked at his hand again.  Sometimes he felt as though it were chang=
ing, but it was always just a false, unfounded feeling.  There was no chang=
e in the callused palm, no difference in the rough nails, no restrictions t=
o the smooth movement.  The hand was as it had been since his years as an a=
ssassin, no additions, no changes.

    This just served to start him thinking again.  What would the Curse do =
to his body?  He now had years of experience under his belt, years during w=
hich every part of his body had been trained to kill, every muscle conditio=
ned until they could perform their functions under the most extreme conditi=
ons, from the dead of winter with no shelter, the heat of battle with no re=
spite, or through the most painful injury without faltering.  He prided him=
self on his control, on subjecting his body to himself no matter what an en=
emy used against him.  It had saved his life countless times, and now he kn=
ew that he could be mere hours from losing everything.

    He slouched over the table, playing with the coins he had dropped there=
 an hour ago.  They had been meant as a tip when he had thought he would be=
 leaving, and they remained there as long as he did, lost in his thoughts. =
 In one moment, everything he had once known could be gone.  Would it be su=
ch a bad thing?  After all, he had wanted to be rid of that side of himself=
 for so long, would it be so bad?

    No!  He had lived by that nature, using it to put bread on his table, c=
oin in his pocket, a roof over his head!  What did he want, to lose the par=
t of him that had saved him from a short life in the streets of some city f=
ull of pompous fools too rich to see a poor boy=92s need?  He seethed, reme=
mbering the days he had passed in that sort of a state.  He could not live =
like that, his work had saved him from that!

    Had it really?  The response to his own thoughts came quickly.  Had the=
 assassin he had become truly saved him from that life?  If the only way he=
 could truly have lived was by killing others, how did others survive?  The=
y were honest workers, men of their word, tradesmen who did an honest day=
=92s work and went to bed without a bounty over their heads.  They might no=
t be able to afford what Lois could, but even if they slept with only a cru=
st of moldy bread in their stomachs, they never had to learn to sleep with =
one eye open lest they be killed for the bounty over their heads.

    But Lois could never have been a tradesman, he reminded himself.  His f=
ather had robbed him of that opportunity.  Lois gritted his teeth.  His min=
d summoned what slight images he could remember of his father.  They had be=
en long banished; it was ancient history, something that no historian would=
 ever write in an account of Lois=92s life.  He was nothing but a footnote,=
 or he would be left as that by anyone else looking at Lois from their own =
perspective.

    Lois knew better.  He didn=92t know much about his father, nor did he c=
are to know more than what he did know, but he could testify to the fact th=
at his father was likely the most prominent of the reasons that Lois had ch=
osen his path.

    It was unlikely, to say the least, that any boy would have been put thr=
ough what Lois had known in his early life.  Taken from his family, made a =
servant of the lord=92s household to help pay his family=92s debts; it made=
 him furious at the remembrance.  It was not so much that the life at the l=
ord=92s manor had been bad; in reality, it had been rather pleasant.  The t=
hing that made Lois furious was what he always heard from people he talked =
to about their childhood.  The ones who didn=92t know about their father al=
most always had some story of him dying in defense of his country at the ve=
ry least.  Not so for Lois.

    CRACK!

    Lois startled himself out of his reverie, now staring at the wooden pla=
te that lay in pieces underneath his fist.  He pushed the chair back from t=
he table, not noting the looks he got from the other patrons.  The owner hi=
mself had stopped in mid-motion, holding a pint of ale a few inches from th=
e counter, a little bit of the contents of the container dripping slowly do=
wn the side.  Silence reigned in the room.

    Lois surveyed the table.  Not just the plate had been broken, but he ha=
d managed to upset the half pint of ale that sat at his own place.  It had =
just started to drizzle onto the floor when Lois next moved.  He walked tow=
ards the door, taking special care to venture near enough the counter as he=
 did so.  As he passed the startled patrons situated about it, he reached i=
nto his purse and caught four coins in his hand.  He had no doubt that four=
 of any coin would suffice to pay any damages, so he took little care in ch=
ecking what it was that he threw in the direction of the owner.

    After the owner of the tavern had picked the coins out of the mazer it =
was discovered that he had just been paid enough to refurnish the entire es=
tablishment.

    Lois couldn=92t have cared any less if he had known what he had just do=
ne.  He needed release, he needed some way to get rid of the pounding, the =
driving anger that now possessed him.

    Kyia was kind enough to lead Lois down the most uninhabited passages of=
 the Keep.  At first Lois simply ran, his legs pounding furiously, every st=
ep gaining speed until he was moving at a speed that would have prided many=
 of the faster animal Keepers.  And yet he ran on, feeling not in the least=
 tired, no fatigue, no pain.  He was focused, determined, trying to drive t=
hat face from his memories, but nothing worked.  His mind ever turned to th=
e man who had sent him down this path.

    =93Curse him!  Curse him!  Infamy and ruin to his name!=94  Lois was ru=
nning down an empty hall, but his furious, breaking voice echoed throughout=
 halls all through the Keep.  People turned their heads, looking for the so=
urce of the cries, but were finally forced to conclude that it was their im=
aginations.  At least they hoped it was.

    The voice that plagued the halls of the Keep continued its cries, cursi=
ng the source of his anger in every language he knew, every curse he could =
conceive, screaming his fury to the stones of the Keep.  He screamed until =
his voice gave away, and yet his legs still pounded, the thudding echoing d=
own the empty corridors he haunted.

    The halls now guided him from the inner Keep, allowing him a swift exit=
 into the lower Keep, and still he ran.  Down the main thoroughfare his leg=
s carried him.  He felt nothing, heard only the sound of his own footfalls,=
 watched as startled night watchmen watched his progress.  All they could g=
uess was that he was pursuing something, but what it could have been, none =
ventured to guess.

    He left the main road, now navigating the thin alleys that led away fro=
m it.  He tried to find the release he needed by the rapid turns that the a=
lleys demanded of him, but the anger drove him further.  He needed somethin=
g more, and there was only one other thing that could provide anything more.

    It didn=92t take him long to find what he was looking for.  A pile of c=
rates were stacked against the side of a building, likely waiting to carry =
some merchant=92s produce to market.  For Lois, however, they were his path=
 to the skies.

    He climbed the pile without the aid of his hands, timing his steps perf=
ectly and landing with enough precision not to topple them.  At the top, he=
 leaped, hands reaching and masterfully grasping the best handholds they co=
uld find.  The momentum of his leap swung his legs up, his left leg leading=
 and gaining purchase on the roof.  It took him very little time to swing h=
is right leg up, and from there he was on his feet without any hesitation.

    Lois moved to the ridge of the roof and quickly scanned the area.  His =
anger demanded release, but even the anger could not override the disciplin=
e born of experience.  Finally, he found a path, and his legs once more mov=
ed, although the running was different in that it was now aimed at keeping =
balance on the rooftop, not sprinting.

    In a leap, he had crossed the alley between the roof he was on and the =
next roof.  He climbed this roof, then walked the ridge of the roof, balanc=
e almost impeccable, and yet his speed never decreased.  The leap he took n=
ext was even more difficult than the last one; the next roof was higher tha=
n this one.

    His fingers found what they wanted as soon as he had crossed the distan=
ce.  He hefted himself up onto the roof, now with a much better view, and m=
any more paths that he could take.  He took very little time considering hi=
s path, then once more moved out, leaping from roof to roof, anger slowly a=
bating with each measured step.

    Lois didn=92t bother counting the roofs that he crossed.  They all flas=
hed by, although he somehow still kept his footing at every juncture, and h=
is fingers always found purchase, no matter the difficulty of a jump.  It w=
as a skill he had once used to perform his life=92s work, now transformed f=
or an entirely new purpose.

    Lois didn=92t know how long he ran.  In the end, he found himself on th=
e roof of a two story home, higher than any of the visible roofs in the are=
a.  Looking over the lower Keep, Lois finally got ahold of himself.  He sat=
 down on the ride of the peaked roof, chest heaving, legs burning, and the =
face finally forced to the back of his mind.

    If any of his employers from years before had known the private war tha=
t Lois endured, none would have hired him.  After all, what sort of assassi=
n would the man be who could still not cope with the thought of his father?=
  Surely no man so weak as to be driven to tears by the mere thought of his=
 past could perform such a grisly task.

    None but Vincent Lois.

    He was a broken man, his slumped form illuminated only by the moon and =
the stars above.  The cold was beginning to get to him, but he did his best=
 to ignore it.  He was still warm enough, warmed by the anger that still sm=
oldered within.  He would never admit it, but there were tears on his cheek.

    The thoughts had returned, of the father that had made the first push t=
o turn his young son to this life.  Would he have been different if he had =
been given the knowledge of where this path would lead?  No, Lois assured h=
imself, his father held no esteem for anyone but himself.  If he had, he wo=
uld have shown it instead of leaving his son without anything=85

    =93No!=94 Lois growled, teeth clenched tightly.  His memories had been =
turning, now in the direction of his release from the lord=92s service.  He=
 had no home to go to, his father had lost it all in his sloth.  His mother=
 had also been dying before he had seen her again.  Nothing.  That was youn=
g Vincent=92s inheritance.  Nothing.  The road, the desolate paths he had t=
rod after leaving his home=85?  No, Lois had taken those himself.  Even the=
y were denied to Lois when his father had lived, instead trapping him withi=
n the dark walls of the manor.  Love=85?  Even less!  Vincent had no memori=
es of anything that might have been termed love.

    The only thing left to Lois at his father=92s death?  An example.  An e=
xample, but not one to follow.  An example to part paths from, an example s=
howing exactly what a man should not do with his life.  Nothing else.  Lois=
 had been left to fend for himself, to survive himself, to make himself.

    =93I crafted this life for myself,=94 Lois whispered.  =93I am a crafts=
man, I crafted this path, built it with my own hands, created every twist, =
placed every marker.  I made myself.=94  The voice that said this trembled =
slightly, but contained some pride.  =93I asked no favors, I have worked fo=
r everything I have ever possessed.=94

    Pride.  That is what he felt.  He was proud of having built this life f=
or himself.  How long had he survived alone?  He had never asked quarter, n=
ever given quarter.  He had fought, bitten, torn his way to where he was no=
w.  He had run more risks than many others could ever dream of, and he had =
survived.  What man would not be proud of such a legacy?

    He removed his left glove, staring at the palm.  A strange scar still m=
arked his palm, the lines almost forming something tangible.  He knew what =
the shape was supposed to be.  Only he knew, as the scar was now so intermi=
xed with others of the kind to be recognized.

    Sighing, Lois slipped the glove back on.  None could ever know what it =
meant.  He himself had defaced the symbol, slicing his palm with his own da=
ggers.  He remembered the pain, both of the original wound and of the ones =
that he had inflicted.  The pride was falling.  The price for a life such a=
s his was great.  The pride melted in his chest, replaced by an empty feeli=
ng.

    =93Hey you, what are you doing up there?=94 a voice called, shaking Loi=
s back from his considerations.

    =93Go away.=94  Lois didn=92t know immediately whether his voice was au=
dible only to him, or if he had spoken loud enough.

    =93Get off of my roof, or I=92ll call the Watch!=94  The voice was fema=
le, but held a sense of extreme authority.

    =93Leave me be.=94  Lois=92 voice held much more vigor in it now.  His =
concentration was fully on the person below now.  His eyes dimly saw the fi=
gure of a human woman standing in the main road, arms akimbo as she spoke t=
o him.

    =93The only thing I=92m going to leave you is rotting in the Keep=92s d=
ungeons, you fool.  Get down off of my roof, now!=94  The woman was not imp=
ressed by Lois=92 glare.  She tapped a foot as though she were a mother cor=
recting her child.

    Lois hand tapped the dagger at his side thoughtfully.  One more person =
couldn=92t worsen his situation at all.  Least of all his conscience, if he=
 still had one.  Still, the part of him that had forced him out of the assa=
ssin=92s trade won him over, and his fingers relaxed.  Besides, who was to =
say that there wasn=92t some Watch member watching him as it was.

    Lois stood up, stabilizing himself as he felt the effects of adrenaline=
 wearing off.  He jumped from the roof, smiling slightly to himself as it b=
ecame apparent that jumping from the roof to the ground was not the method =
that she had expected.  He came out of his roll, standing a few feet to her=
 side, and leveled a cold stare at her.

    =93I feel it fit to warn you that I will likely be back,=94 he said, a =
slight bit of sarcasm evident in his voice.

    =93Not on my roof you don=92t!=94  The woman insisted, staring at him w=
ith equal intensity.  =93I just had it repaired.  I=92m not about to wait t=
hrough six months of leaks while we save up to fix it again!  Next time, I =
call the Watch first.=94

    Lois shook his head and walked away.  The confrontation had put him in =
a strangely happier mood, but it only lasted for about thirty steps.  From =
there on, Lois was once more deep in thought.

    Although he had managed to burn off his rage aimed at his father, he st=
ill had not figured out what he was going to do.  It terrified him, despite=
 how much he denied it, that he would change so drastically if he stayed in=
 the Keep.  What if he became a woman?  He snorted.  Disgrace.  He would be=
 a thing of ridicule.  Then again, it would completely remake him.  Likely,=
 he would lose all that he had ever worked for in the way of skills.  His l=
ife as an assassin would be lost behind that guise better than any other.

    Did he want that?  The assassin in him cried out for him to find a hors=
e and get out of the Valley before that could happen.  Yet, the other side,=
 the side that had pushed him from that profession, insisted that he stay. =
 It would be for the best.

    Skills could be relearned.  His fighting style could be reworked.  Afte=
r all, flexibility was essential for an assassin.  The face of a woman woul=
d go far to destroy the man that was wanted dead by so many in the south.  =
Yes.  The assassin was satisfied.  Once more, he could make himself feared.

    The same went for the animal curse.  Underneath a coat of fur, scales, =
feathers, or some other such feature, he would be unrecognizable.  A small =
name change, and a whole new identity could be created.  He had, after all,=
 faked his death twice before.  Once more could not be too hard.

    A child?  It would likely rob him of his more effective techniques but=
=85  What was more dangerous to an unsuspecting person than a child?  Espec=
ially to the South, he could still perform adequately=85

    He shook his head in frustration.  How long ago had it been since he re=
solved to leave that life behind?  Why did that part of him always return t=
o haunt him?  He thought it had been over those many years ago, and yet=85 =
 It never left!

    How could it?  The reminder of those years were all around.  From the c=
lothes that he wore, to the daggers always present on his belt.  His manner=
 of talking was still how he always used to secure employment.  He was alwa=
ys looking to manipulate the path of a casual talk towards whatever he wish=
ed to speak of, all while the people around him thought that the reason for=
 that change of subject had been spontaneous.  He was still very adept at p=
rotecting his past.  And yet, by protecting that past, he was drawing on a =
skill from it.

    His steps had taken him towards the inn where he had been staying, even=
 without him realizing it.  He looked up at the dark structure.  A low ligh=
t shone from the commons room, but that was the only illumination.  He cont=
emplated his fate for a while longer, then marched for the inn.

    He would stay, on that he had finally settled.  Although he thought tha=
t this decision had been reached long ago, it had been just now that he fin=
ally found himself fully settled on it.  As for why he was staying, however=
, he felt that he would still have to fight the war between the part of him=
 that still embraced assassination as the thing that had kept him alive and=
 the side that wanted no more to do with his former life.

    As he crossed the threshold into the inn, he looked behind him.  He tho=
ught he caught sight of something dashing through the shadows, but it was g=
one in that instant.  Shaking it off as a trick of the light, he went to hi=
s room, falling asleep quickly.

            *        *        *        *

    Lois=92 dagger left its sheath before he had even regained consciousnes=
s.  His eyes snapped open a moment later, the blade held in a position that=
 could be quickly used for either defense or offense.  This was always the =
way he awoke when disturbed, but this time he could not see anything that m=
ight have woken him.

    The dagger was shifted quickly to his left hand as he moved to light a =
lantern.  He did so slowly, making sure that no one ambushed him from the s=
hadows as he did so, but the room remained quiet.  As the flame flickered t=
o life though, it went out almost instantly.

    Lois eyed the lantern for a moment, fingers tensing on the blade.  Read=
y=85

    =93Afraid of the dark?=94

    The blade hissed through the air, burying itself up to the hilt in the =
wall of the room.  The lantern broke as Lois dropped it, a dagger replacing=
 it as he stood quietly, listening for any further voices.  He moved silent=
ly to where the other dagger was, then turned, facing the rest of the room =
as he worked silently to free the weapon from the wood that held it.

    =93What is it?  Shadow Master lost his nerve?=94 the voice taunted.  Lo=
is twisted, bringing the blade free and dropping into a fighter=92s stance =
facing the source of the voice.

    =93Show yourself,=94 Lois responded.

    =93You are in no position to make demands,=94 the voice sounded.  Lois =
winced.  Curse whoever was trying to intimidate him.  They even knew his ow=
n ways of intimidation.

    =93You=92ve yet to prove yourself to be in any great position,=94 Lois =
responded, shifting slightly to keep himself ready for any sudden attack.  =
His senses were alert, listening, watching, even feeling the changes in pre=
ssure in the surrounding floorboards.  He felt a slight sag in the wood fro=
m behind, and he reacted accordingly.  Nothing.  Not a mouse was visible be=
hind him.

    The voice laughed at the failed attack.  =93On the contrary, Lois, I ha=
ve the strongest position possible to my advantage.=94  The voice had come =
from the other side of the room.  Nothing was visible there, however.  Curs=
es, the person even seemed to know Lois=92 style.  It seemed as though they=
 were throwing their voice just as he did for added advantage.

    =93No position is impervious,=94 Lois shot back.  =93When I do find you=
, you will sing a different tune.=94

    The voice laughed.  It was no ordinary laugh, but seemed to have its so=
urce all over the room, no definite position.  Blast, even Lois could not t=
hrow his voice that well.  =93Actually, Lois, there is one.=94  The voice c=
ame.  Then, in a grating whisper from directly to his left the invader spok=
e.  =93Inside your mind.=94

    Lois lashed out, all of his force driving left and upwards, throwing hi=
s weight into it.  Yet, once again, the darkness held no enemy.

    Lois=92 breath came in heavy gasps.  =93You=92re only trying to intimid=
ate me,=94 he shot back, finally recovering.  Inside his mind?  No enemy co=
uld gain that sort of foothold, least of all without Lois noticing.

    =93You=92re losing your confidence, Lois,=94 the voice spoke.  Now it w=
as directly before him.  Lois made no move however, instead kneeling down i=
n a rather indefensible position, clearly showing his back to any attacker.=
  =93What=92s this, giving up so quickly?=94

    =93Never,=94 Lois said, voice hardly above a whisper.  He concentrated;=
 nothing would get away from him, nothing would stand and taunt him from th=
e shadows.  No man could outdo the Shadow Master at his own craft!

    A light sound and a sudden vibration came from his right.  No move was =
taken by Lois however.  Nothing visible to anyone else, anyway.

    =93Come now, Vincent, do you really think that your tricks can work on =
me?=94  The voice came from the right direction.  Still, Lois didn=92t move=
.  He waited, patient.  He had to be ready, but he couldn=92t jump before t=
he opportune moment.

    Two fingers gripped something from Lois=92 boot.  Every muscles tense, =
every bit of Lois=92 willpower was focused on his next move.  A small vibra=
tion from the same direction.  Another, closer this time.  A third.  The fa=
int sound of glass being crushed.  A fourth, a nearly undetectable sound of=
 liquid being disturbed.

    And Lois=92 body launched into motion, a cry rising in his throat as he=
 attacked.  A dart, hardly larger than the thrower=92s thumbnail, led the a=
ttack.  Lois himself followed immediately behind, both daggers flashing as =
they sliced through the air.

    The figure before him hardly reacted.  The flinch he made was nearly un=
detectable, but enough to make the dart miss by a hairsbreadth.  Two more d=
aggers flashed, one connecting with Lois=92 own, forcing it up.  The second=
 drove below the first, aiming for Lois=92 stomach,  but was blocked solidl=
y, Lois=92 elbow catching his opponent=92s wrist, blocking both daggers wit=
h one arm.  Lois=92 second dagger found a hole in the other=92s defenses, c=
oming from above and aimed at the head.

    And then he was gone.  Lois=92 attack met nothing but air.  His breathi=
ng was the only sound audible in the room.  =93Blast you, where are you?=94=
 Lois yelled out, searching for the man he had just fought.

    A laugh sounded from above him.  =93I am the one assassin that your ski=
lls cannot defeat,=94 the voice said, once more echoing from every wall at =
once.

    =93There is no such man!  Show your face, my daggers thirst for you blo=
od!=94

    =93Do they really?  Very well=85=94  The voice stopped abruptly at this=
 phrase, leaving Lois to stare about once more in confusion.  Then, from ri=
ght beside him, the voice sounded again.  =93Then let them taste it.=94

    Lois didn=92t hesitate.  Both daggers slashed, aimed to kill the intrud=
er with one attack.  Finally, after so many tense moments, Lois was awarded=
 with the sound of his attack connecting, and a cry of such pain that he ha=
d only heard equaled once in his life.  The man he had hit staggered back, =
crying out, until his cries died, the figure crumpling, falling into the ce=
nter of the floor.

    Lois grunted, looking at the dead man who had been tormenting him.  Fin=
ally, he would be able to sleep soundly.

    Lois stepped towards the figure, wanting to see who it was that had bee=
n foolish enough to try his talents.  He had almost reached the body, when =
a sudden sound startled him.

    THUMP!

    Lois whirled about, only to be greeted by the sight of the pool of oil =
on the floor lighting all at once.  He stumbled back, the heat unbearable, =
until he tripped over the body that lay prone on his bedroom floor.  He got=
 back up, not worried so much about the body any more.  How had the fire be=
en lit?

    He had little time to wonder.  The bed lit quickly, the fire too hot fo=
r the thin straw mattress that he had been sleeping on.  As it went up, the=
 entire room was lit brilliantly, and, to Lois=92 opinion, far hotter than =
it should have been.  He cringed, but stood his ground, trying to think of =
anything he could do.  In the end, all he could think of to do was to get o=
ut of the room.

    That is, it was the only idea, until he found out that the door was som=
ehow locked from the outside.

    After pounding on the door for a few moments and trying to get someone=
=92s attention, Lois could only stare at the door and curse his luck.  He t=
urned, moving towards one of the room=92s windows.  It was also sealed, and=
 he could do nothing to open it.

    He swore loudly, moving to the other window, only to find it in a simil=
ar state.  He glanced back towards the fire.   It seemed closer now.  Blast=
, he had to get out of this room!

    =93What=92s wrong, Lois?  Can=92t take the heat?=94  Lois stiffened.  I=
t was the voice again.  He whirled about, daggers drawn in the same motion.=
  And there, standing in a pool of what Lois assumed to be his own blood, w=
as the man, smiling evilly at him.

    =93I told you, you cannot kill me,=94 the man said, withdrawing a hand =
from his side, showing the blood from the wound Lois had inflicted.  The ma=
n=92s face was just like many faces Lois had seen in his younger days: Whit=
e, as if all of the blood were drained from it.  And yet, this monster stil=
l lived.

    Lois only hesitated for a moment looking at the man before he brought h=
is most deadly weapon to bear.  Another dart flew from his fingers, imbeddi=
ng itself in the man=92s neck.  The man smiled, plucking it from where it h=
ad landed and dabbing at the pinprick of blood that rose from the wound.

    =93Tsk, tsk, Lois.  I thought you were beyond these dirty assassin tric=
ks.=94  Lois snarled as the insult his him.

    =93I am not an assassin.  That part of my life is over!=94

    =93No, Lois, you think it=92s over.  You think it=92s dead, just like y=
ou thought I was dead.  You=92ll never get rid of it, and you=92ll never ge=
t rid of me.  Both of us are part of you, and you=92d better get used to it=
.=94

    =93Liar!=94 Lois launched furiously into an attack, both blades aimed a=
t severing the head from the shoulders, but the enemy simply disappeared in=
to thin air, leaving Lois with nothing to stop him, nothing to keep him fro=
m plunging into the flames.

    He screamed as he fell onto the ground, the fire encompassing him.  The=
 agony was too much, the searing heat too intense, driving him out of his m=
ind, leaving only the pain to tell him that he still lived=85

    CRASH!

    Lois was up, the motion of drawing his dagger and sitting up so exagger=
ated that it carried him over the edge of the bed.  He was on his feet a mo=
ment later, bracing himself against the wall, feeling the sweat beginning t=
o dry in the cool air.

    =93A dream,=94 he whispered to himself.  The dagger was now held at a r=
elaxed posture, the shock of the dream slowly wearing off.  He wiped his fo=
rehead with his arm.  He had never experienced that sort of a dream before.=
  Never had he felt so sure that he had met his match.

    He coughed, still feeling the effects of the smoke from his dream.  He =
knew that it hadn=92t been real, but the reflex remained the same.  Sitting=
 on the bed, Lois contemplated for a few moments.  He had known that face, =
it had spoken to him like that before, although it had been in the waking w=
orld, not in the relative safety of his dreams.  The expressions, the manne=
risms, the way he spoke=85  It was so familiar.

    And then it hit him.  The man that had started him on his path.  The ma=
n that had offered him the training in assassination.  It was the same way =
of speaking, insulting to bring out the best in a man.  And seemingly so un=
touchable, even in real life.  No matter how much Lois was sure that he=92d=
 finally cleared the man=92s defenses, nothing had ever worked.  But why ha=
d it taken so long for this presence to manifest itself in his dreams?

    Lois realized that he had been working his glove off slowly as he thoug=
ht.  It had reminded of the man=92s other contribution to Lois=92 life.  Lo=
is rubbed his fingers on his palm slowly, remembering, before he actually o=
nce more looked at the symbol.

    Although marred by Lois=92 own self-inflicted scars, the pattern could =
still be discerned by one who knew what to look for.  It was artful in a si=
ck way.  The lines were intricate, drawn to perfection by the edge of that =
man=92s dagger.  The fire in his dream=85  That must have been where it had=
 come from.

    Lois shuddered.  The feeling of the white-hot blade slicing the symbol =
of the assassin=92s guild in his left palm was still fresh in his memory.  =
It had been his final test, to allow the symbol to be etched in his flesh w=
ithout once begging for mercy.  It had hardened him, but it had also scarre=
d him, in more ways than one.

    Lois sighed.  His discussion with himself last night had to have caused=
 this.  The thought of his life as an assassin fresh in his mind, his dream=
s had taken him in that direction.  The dreams would pass.

    He began to slip the glove back onto his hand, but suddenly stopped.  H=
is mouth moved silently, questioning if his eyes were deceiving him.

    The scar was becoming more defined, the others about it fading slightly=
.  No, that couldn=92t be right.  Lois blinked his eyes quickly, trying to =
clear his vision, but it continued.  Also, his palm seemed to be darkening.

    With a sharp inhalation, Lois realized what was going on.  The Curse wa=
s taking him.  But why was that scar showing through so clearly while the o=
thers were fading?

    This thought was quickly discarded as Lois started to feel hot.  Curses=
, Lois though, he was definitely changing!  He shrugged off his coat then, =
as it became apparent that this was not enough, also removed his tunic.  St=
ill, he felt hot.  He only hoped that it wouldn=92t be quite so extreme whe=
n it finished.  Perhaps the change brought on most of the warmth.

    Lois winced as he felt his hand cramp.  He quickly moved his fingers ab=
out, looking at then as he did.  They were shortening.  Lois watched as thi=
s happened, thinking all the while that he would have to learn how to use h=
is daggers again.  Maybe it was for the best=85

    His thoughts were cut off as the same feeling began in his other hand. =
 He kept working his left hand while he took off his right glove with his t=
eeth.  The same changes were apparent, but also apparent was the light cove=
ring of white fur that was beginning on his hand.  Also, he noticed that hi=
s nails were beginning to lengthen, as well as thinning towards the end unt=
il they were razor sharp.  By this time, they had also migrated to the ends=
 of his fingers, which seemed to have finished shortening, now a little les=
s than three-quarters of their original length.

    Lois noticed that the thumb seemed even a bit shorter relative to the o=
thers.  He hoped that he could find a way to get around that in his fightin=
g style.

    The white fur had started growing all over his body now.  It was simply=
 white, plain, with no spot, no stripe, no marking to blemish the surface o=
f the fur coat.  At least not yet=85

    The fur began to climb towards Lois=92 face while he watched what he co=
uld of the transformation.  He felt no pain, only the somewhat uncomfortabl=
e heat that the fur caused.  His hair started to fall out, replaced by the =
white fur almost instantly.  He caught one of the locks of hair as it fell,=
 looking at it and shaking his head.

    =93Not much of a loss, I suppose,=94 he said quietly.

    Unseen to him, the scars in his face were covered by the white fur like=
 the rest of the skin.  Only the three scars that sliced close by Lois=92 e=
ye did not follow this general rule.  In stark contrast to all of the fur a=
round them, them were marked in black fur, leaving him with some tangible r=
eminder of the battle that he had been closest to dying in.

    Lois stretched as he felt something akin to tightness in his back.  As =
he did, he could swear that he gain a few inches of height.  Comparing hims=
elf with the window confirmed this; he had gained about six inches.

    Just as this realization hit him, he noticed that he had started gettin=
g shorter.  Startled by this seeming contradiction, Lois was somewhat start=
led when his breeches started to slip down from around his slimming waistli=
ne.  He was too caught up in the transformation to much care, but he did ta=
ke the time to lock the door before his trousers slipped all the way down. =
 The journey to the door did show him one thing, however.  His legs were de=
finitely changing.

    Once that he was sure that he would not receive any unexpected interrup=
tions, he released his grip on his breeches.  His legs had definitely chang=
ed, most noticeably in the hips.  The structure was different, and the reas=
on for his decreasing height became obvious.  To compensate for the increas=
e in body length, his legs were getting shorter.  His arms also appeared to=
 do the same thing, although the structure remained far more familiar.

    The fur was still unblemished white except for the area where his tripl=
et scars had once occupied.  His legs finished changing, and the fur contin=
ued down, coating his feet.  As his hands had done before, his feet began t=
o become padded.  For the first time, the change was uncomfortable, making =
Lois have to sit on the bed as the pads covered the bottom of his feet, as =
well as the bottoms of his toes.  His toes shortened, and the nails lengthe=
ned and sharpened into claws.  He winced, although there was no pain.  It j=
ust seemed to him that he should have experienced some from that change.

    Lois began to take stock of the situation as fur covered the last visib=
le parts of his body.  What was he?  He had not seen anything quite so=85  =
Well, white.  He was still considering this when the next part of his chang=
e occurred.  For this, he did feel some pain.  His face began to take on a =
new shape, the skull itself reforming drastically, a short muzzle beginning=
 to force its way away from his face.  He flinched as the white muzzle spli=
t his vision, then as his eyes moved slightly back away from the new additi=
on on his face.  He couldn=92t see it, but his eyes had become completely b=
lack, contrasting highly with the extreme whiteness of the rest of his form=
.  His nose also turned black, assuming its new position at the end of the =
muzzle.

    Probing about the strange new muzzle with his tongue, he could feel his=
 teeth changing.  It was strange.  He was used to the relatively flat surfa=
ces of his human teeth, and the new teeth that filled his mouth were all vi=
ciously pointed, more suited to the title of fangs than proper teeth.  He c=
ould taste a slight tang of blood, probably caused by the dramatic shifting=
 that his teeth were undergoing.  He spat.  Although he had been an assassi=
n, he had never fancied the taste of blood.

    His ears had rounded out, losing their lobes while he was experimenting=
 with his new muzzle.  They now occupied a much higher position on his head=
.  He took little notice, instead prodding at the muzzle with the tips of h=
is claws.  He suddenly flinched and let out a strange chirping sound a pair=
 of whiskers suddenly grew out of his face, touching his fingers and causin=
g a sudden sensation for which he had not been prepared.  He chuckled sligh=
tly, a sound that came out as more of a chitter than any human noise.

    He suddenly felt a strange pain behind him.  He reached back, feeling t=
he new appendage that was just now growing from the end of his spine.  He t=
ook the tail between his fingers and, when it had grown long enough, Brough=
t it around to where he could see it better.

    It was mostly white, like most of the rest of his body.  The tip, howev=
er, for nearly the last foot, was black.  The tail, in and of itself, was n=
ot too long, not compared to some of the other morphs than Lois had seen, a=
nyway.  It was slightly less than half as long as he was tall.  It was also=
 about the width of a cat=92s tail.

    Lois waited for a few moments, making sure that the changes had complet=
ed, before doing anything else.  Once he was reasonably sure, he once more =
took stock of his new form.

    In the end, the net result of his height changes basically ended in an =
impasse, with very little height actually lost or gained.  His arms were co=
nsiderably shorter, a fact for which he was not very grateful.  Long arms h=
ad been an integral part of his battle style.  He would have to adjust.

    His legs had also significantly decreased in length, perhaps the most c=
oncerning of his changes as far as his fighting style was concerned.  His s=
tride had a lot to do with some of his more defensive maneuvers.  He hoped =
that this could either be countered or lived with.  He would need to take t=
his body out for a run later to see=85

    His eyes seemed to dull a bit in their sensitivity, and he had some tro=
uble distinguishing colors, although this trouble was limited to colors tha=
t were very close to each other.  Otherwise, little seemed to have changed.=
  He hoped absently that the creature he had become could see well in the d=
ark.  That would counter some of the damage done otherwise.

    Thinking again of his battle techniques brought him back to where the c=
hange had started.  He looked at his hands, wondering how the claws could h=
elp him, and if he would be able to use his daggers as effectively with sho=
rter finger=85  And he stopped.  He shook his head, blinking rapidly, then =
stared again at his palms.

    An eerily familiar mark stood out in white on his left palm.  The figur=
e of an assassin=92s dagger, etched in his hand as a human by the blade of =
his one time trainer.  The strangely intricate letters that were written ab=
out the dagger, the creed of that assassin=92s guild, clear in its message =
to all.

    =91No life is worth anything except for your own.=92

    Lois closed his hand.  His mind raced, tears threatening in his newly-c=
hanged eyes.  He realized now that he had been thinking as the assassin eve=
r since the change had come.  He felt himself trembling, the rage that had =
been disrupted by the change coming back as he realized that the Curse had =
left to him that symbol.  Why?

    Lois half sat, half fell down onto his bed.   His left handed tightened=
, forming a fist, until he pressed so hard that he felt his new claws diggi=
ng into his padded palm.  Let them dig, he though bitterly.  Perhaps they c=
ould tear away that mark, that cursed symbol of his past life.

    He heard that voice again in his mind, the same that had visited him in=
 his dream of last night.  This time, however, the words had been spoken in=
 the waking world, albeit nearly twenty-five years ago.

    =93This symbol can never be erased,=94 he had said, his voice as warm a=
s ice as he traced out the shape on the young Vincent=92s palm.  =93Once ap=
plied, the mark of an assassin will be worn until death, like it or not.=94

    At that time, Lois had paid little heed.  It had been a choice between =
performing that strange, painful ritual and death.  At the time, accepting =
the ritual as necessary seemed easy.  Now, however, Lois was not sure that =
he had made the right decision.  That symbol!

    Lois had come to his paws at some time during his reminiscing, pacing r=
igidly about the room as he seethed.  He wouldn=92t let himself get out of =
control now, though.  He was settled on it, determined that this battle wou=
ld be won on the battleground of his mind.  The Keep had already seen too m=
uch of his temper, while all the while he had purposed to keep it in check.=
  So many things he had purposed, and they now all seemed to fall apart bef=
ore his very eyes.

    But why had the Curse left him that symbol, and not the other scars tha=
t had been used to deface it?  =93The mark of an assassin will be worn unti=
l death, like it or not,=94 the voice echoed inside his head again.  He had=
 thought those words to be some sort of threat, something told to every man=
 who joined that assassin=92s guild to deter them from leaving.  Now, howev=
er, he was not so sure.  Had there been some magic involved, something that=
 would preserve the mark against destruction.

    Lois almost shouted a curse at this point, but held his tongue.  No, no=
w was not the time for that.  Instead, he closed his eyes, only the sound o=
f labored breathing now disturbing him.  Curses, he was losing himself agai=
n.  He swallowed, now intent on subduing that fury, willing himself to put =
out the fire that burned within him without lashing out and making a scene =
as he had before.

    His breathing became more measured as he got control.  The trembling in=
creased in vigor for a moment, a strange chill coming over him as he fought=
 back the rage.  Then it stopped. =


    Lois=92 body remained tense as he stood there, but he had now subdued i=
t once more.  The control that had taken him years to master had one again =
returned, leaving him standing, the picture of calm, while inside the fires=
 of his anger threatened to burst out again.  One thing remained disturbing=
 him, however.  This technique was for use on the battlefield, when his lif=
e could rest on his ability or inability to control himself.  He had never =
had to use it for something like this before.

    It was the Keep.  So he thought, and he tried to force himself to accep=
t it.  The Keep had held the promise of changing his body forever, and the =
possibility that perhaps then he would finally be able to fully remove all =
memory of his life as an assassin.  It had taken him now, as he had known i=
t would, but it had betrayed him.  It had given him a form that he could li=
ve with, yes, but it had also left etched in his flesh the one thing that c=
ould never allow him to be free of that life.

    No, not the Keep.  It was him.  Every choice he made led him farther in=
to this mire.  He sighed.  Everything he knew now, everything he owned, eve=
rything he saw, everything he heard=85  The assassin had controlled for so =
long, it would not now relinquish its hold on his life.

    Nothing he had done could ever destroy that part of him.  Everything he=
 had was owed to that way of life.  Every coin he now had was blood money, =
paid to kill in the stead of his employer.  His clothing was ideally suited=
 for the task; every article of clothing held come secret, some place to se=
cure a hidden weapon, a poison dart, or a lock pick.  His weapons belonged =
in the hands of an assassin, not in the possession of the man he now wished=
 he could be.  His movements, his fighting style, even his manner of speech=
, he had learned them all as an assassin, and they all still refused to fee=
l right outside of that profession.

    Lois looked back at the scar, now tracing the lines with a claw from hi=
s right hand.  It seemed to mock him, laughing at him as he realized that h=
is hopes of destroying it were dashed.  As he traced the lines, the voice f=
rom his past again sounded in his ears, but now it again held a message tha=
t he had not heard before.

    =93You are an assassin as sure as this mark mars your flesh,=94 it said=
.  He fancied that he heard the man laughing now, glorying in the assurance=
 that Lois could not escape the path he had chosen those long years ago.

    Lois had to fight the anger back again, then he responded in calm, leve=
l tones.  =93I have defeated enemies far greater than this in the past.  I =
will not be defeated by an enemy that only exists in my mind.=94

    Again, the phantom voice spoke, light as a breeze on his round ears.  =
=93This enemy cannot be defeated by force of arms.=94  A light chuckle seem=
ed to land on his ears.  =93A man cannot destroy himself.=94

    Lois stiffened at that, but settled once more.  =93A half truth,=94 he =
muttered, responding to the voice in his mind.  =93I cannot destroy this en=
emy.  I can subdue him, however,  and I will.=94

    The voice chuckled slowly, drifting through his head, before a grating =
whisper finally responded.  =93I will quite enjoy watching you try.=94

    Lois was able to control himself far better this time.  He made no reto=
rt.  Instead, he waited quietly for a few moments, making sure that the voi=
ce in his mind would not torment him any more, then opened his eyes with a =
quiet sigh.

    =93I will not be denied,=94 he whispered to himself quietly.  He looked=
 over his body, finally settling his eyes back on the image in his palm.  =
=93This is a new beginning.  This mark has no power over me.=94

    He was finally completely calm, completely settled in his purpose to do=
 away with his former self.  He prepared for the day, mind now off of the p=
ast and on the future.  He was determined to make the latter better than th=
e former.

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