My Dearest FelixFinally, I am very happy to announce that Vorewyth has attained the 3rd Place in the Assassination Contest. His change of perspective - much different than the other submissions, caught my eye. Enjoy! Also, on another note, I just want to say that ALL of the submissions were excellent - it was not easy deciding which was the best. Because of this, everyone that took the time to submit a story, will get a monetary prize. Please see me in the Lands for details. :) Thanks to all that participated - it was wonderful reading all of your fantastic stories! ::hops:: :)
My Dearest Felix,
I fear for your life. Some men were in the store asking about you today. It was terrible! Everything is in shambles. But Felix, oh Felix! They found out where you live! I fear they’ll be there soon. Please leave before it’s too late. He read the note over again. It was a prank. It had to be. There was no signature, and he knew of no one that worked in a store. Just the town kids playing practical jokes again. He tossed the note onto the table, and soon it was out of his mind. It was possible, of course. He had his share of enemies, the same as anyone in his position. There had been threats. Most were idle. Some weren’t, but those always ended in his favor. He wasn’t worried. It had been a warm winter. He hated warm winters, because the firewood piled up outside his house. It sat there, mocking him, blocking his view as he tried to eat his dinner. The shadow from the firewood gave the food a sickening taint. Grudgingly he stood from the table and set his dinner aside. He would get no peace with that wood there. A fire. He would have a fire to get rid of the extra wood. Already he could hear the few remaining trees scratching against his house in protest of the coming desecration. He would show them. They would join their friends soon. Then there would be peace. He hated them and their long lives. He hated them, with all his heart. He was gathering supplies for the fire when the first knock came. It was fast; three times in rapid succession. He gave a deep sigh as he went to answer the door. Company was an unwelcome surprise. It would delay the fire, and his peace. The door opened silently. He always made sure it was well oiled. He couldn’t stand a squeaky door. He was surprised, though not disappointed, to find nothing but air on the other side. A quick glance around reassured him that no one was there. It was probably his imagination. He lived too far from town for it to be a prank. Some time back he’d moved out into the woods to live alone, away from the pesky kids and neighbors that came with city life. They never left him alone, and privacy was something he cherished. Now there was no one left to talk behind his back, to plot against him. A second knock interrupted his thoughts. It was slower this time; louder. He set down his supplies again – he had picked them up without realizing it – and headed back to the door. This time he checked the window first. There was no one there. He turned to go back to his supplies, and then decided to lock the door for good measure. His mind was playing tricks on him. His eyes glances absentmindedly towards the note on the table. It was just a prank…nothing more. He couldn’t let it get to him. The third knock was different. It was quiet, barely noticeable at first. He assumed it was just the branches scraping against the house again. The fire. He needed to make the fire. Then there would be peace. No more scratching; no more knocking. He was about to unlock the door when it came again. It was louder now, more distinct. It was higher, and behind him, as if from inside the house. His heart started to beat faster now. He tried to control his breathing, closing his eyes to calm himself down. The knocking was incessant now. It grew louder until it was no longer a knocking but a pounding. His head was starting to hurt from the noise. He had to look. It would be nothing. Slowly he climbed the stairs, the pounding growing fiercer with each step he took. By the time he reached the top it was unbearable, and he was forced to cover his ears in order to continue. He followed the noise to his bedroom. The door was closed; he never closed the door. His forehead was beading with sweat as he slowly reached for the doorknob. His heart was beating even faster now, so loud it seemed to match the pounding emanating from the room. He turned the doorknob, losing his grip briefly from the sweat on his hand. No sooner was the door open than the pounding stopped. His head dropped in relief, his breath slowly returning to normal. The fire would help. It would fix everything. He walked slowly back to the stairs, his hand still trembling as it grabbed the railing. He had only taken one step down when the door called out again. There was only one knock this time, sharp, definite. He was drenched in sweat now. His heart beat against his chest as if it would jump out any second. He clutched onto the railing with both hands and slowly worked his way down the stairs. His eyes never left the door as he descended the stairway. It took a full minute to reach the bottom. Just as his feet touched the floor, the doorknob started to rattle. He remembered, relieved, that he had locked the door. Only it wasn’t locked. The doorknob turned once completely around, and then slowly turned back. The door stayed closed. He continued his slow progression towards the door, not hearing the next knock over the pounding of his heart. He made his way to the door slowly, his breath getting heavier with every step he took. Each step became harder, until he had to use the furniture for support as he continued on. His eyes burned from sweat; his vision blurred. He trudged on, determined to find the cause of the knocking. His legs could barely hold him up as he placed both hands on the knob and turned it slowly. He opened the noiseless door once more, but never saw what was on the other side. He never saw the man standing there. Never saw his already outstretched arms. He was dead; his last ounce of energy lost on opening the door. He fell then, landing right in the arms of the stranger. It had been easy. Too easy, even for him. Vorewyth wasn’t an assassin by trade. He knew what he was doing though. Getting information on Felix had been easy enough. It was simple to know he had problems. Everyone with a price on them had problems. Felix had more than his share. He was a loner. He lived in the middle of a forest, appearing in town only now and then to buy provisions. And he was paranoid. Unbelievably so. That fact had been the most important, and proved to be Felix’s undoing. He thought about all this as he lugged Felix’s corpse back to town. He walked openly through the gates, not concealing the body. The guards started to advance, but thought better of it, and occupied themselves with a newfound litterbug. It was all too easy. He made his way through the city, walking without heed to the other townspeople, accidentally hitting the occasional pedestrian with a stray appendage from the corpse. Robyn said nothing as he saw Vorewyth approach. He knew better than to comment on a kill. Vorewyth was always moody after a job, especially an easy one. He could tell by the condition of the corpse that this had been one of the easiest yet. He watched, silently, as Vorewyth tied a rope around Felix’s legs. He watched him hang the corpse upside-down from a post that stuck out of the wall of the guild. A slight smile came to Robyn’s lips as he heard him speak. “The rest of the day is yours, Robyn. Do with it, as you will.” Robyn thanked him, and walked away from the guild somberly, watching as Vorewyth sat in front of the corpse, and closed his eyes.
Rogue Mentor GL,
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