Vahl Tebrius
Teenage Half-Elf learning the way of the Assassin from my mentor, Markeil. I witnessed my family slaughtered by drunken Barbarians as a child, and now I hold a grudge against barbarians as a class.
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Shadows, and the Likes of Them (or, Entry One)
Day 10 of Month 9, Year 93 of the 3rd Era
Markeil's voice intrudes my head, "We must be shadows, Vahl. To be silent is not enough. We must also be invisible." I know, M. He often invades my thoughts, even when he's not with me. His lessons are engraved in my mind so deeply as to be habitual, secondly-natural. I wait until the guard turns from his post and walks the length of the courtyard corridor. When he turns, I drop from the tree I was perched in and follow the winding movement of the shadows across the grassy lawn of the courtyard. I press against a wall and my eyes longingly follow the torchlight that leaves with the guard. How long has it been since I felt warmth? Months. It is mid-Winter, and we cannot risk fires at night. Shadows, he says. Nevermind. I clear my thoughts and focus on the job, turning and beginning the climb up the stone walls of the castle keep. Baron Arnold's room is on the top floor, and according to my sources, he turns in at about ten 'o' clock. I glance at the stars as the rough stone scrapes my hands. It is around midnight, or half past it. I reach the window that should lead to the Baron's room and, keeping one hand firmly gripping the stone, I unsheathe my dagger and slide it into the vertically running crack in the window shutters, prying the knob open. I chuckle to myself, amused at the slack security measures these rich folk think will keep them safe. I pull open the window, keeping it tight against the hinge to prevent any squeaking. Slipping into the room is relieving; the warmth from the fireplace expands my veins and floods my body with fresh, clean blood. My footsteps are completely silent as I approach the Baron's bed. He snores vigorously as he lays on the plush, feather-filled mattress. I grip my dagger tight in my fist because my hand is trembling, as it always does before I kill. "A shadow." Markeil warns me. "No sound, no sight; just the utter lack of light." His stupid mantra rings through my head. I position the point of the dagger above the Baron's throat, hesitating. Then I bring it down.
Baron Arnold snores no longer.
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