Target is just under six feet, swarthy, black hair. Early middle age. Blotted black tattoo on the right shoulder, circular. Appears to be purposely defaced. Thin. More wiry than muscled. Distinctive profile with a prominent wide nasal bridge. Scarring on the hands and forearms appears to be from blades.
I've lived with hate for a long time. It's kept me warm through every assignment, while in every safe house, while running and hiding from the Cowled through alleys and dark dead ends. While waiting tables or murmuring pleasant nothings at a man whose face I'll forget five minutes later as my eyes scan the room. Hate sustained me through it all, gave me a reason to do as the Cabal asked beyond the gratitude I still feel for them.
The Target moves like a man comfortable in the crowd. Difficult to track, not impossible. Likely learned his trade through experience rather than a master - found the pearl, living this long in that case. Possibly lived well given his known work. Dresses like Copper. Cloth and leather of decent quality, but worn and comfortable. Practical. Likely he's Steel in truth.
Hate gave me proper motivation. Finish this assignment, learn, grow. Help the Cabal achieve their aims, and they will help me achieve mine. I've paid them back for their compassion tenfold with what I've done for them, but our relationship has grown mutually beneficial. I've known the Cabal longer than any one agent or handler, and I return to it each time like a comfortable set of clothes. Someone likely is tracking all of this, high up in the secret reaches, but I am content knowing that each time I come in from the cold I am welcome.
Target left the Copper Coronet alone today. Followed him out of the River District. Kept a great distance while on the Bridge. Veered west into the Center, under Daranthur's Hall briefly. Spoke with the Aerlond peddler there, received a parcel. Back across the Bridge, through River into the Gem. Went into the Diamond Dragon. Surveillance difficult, there. Emerged with his coin purse lighter, left the city through Alandamer's Gate. Surveillance ended there - too much else to do.
Welcome though I might be, my advancement is limited. I know they're comfortable killing those who need killing, and I'd be very hypocritical indeed to gainsay them. Still, when matters are impersonal, I am compelled to seek out reconciliation and so instead I am their spy and occasional saboteur. It serves their interests to have as much information as possible, and to see their less deserving targets embarrassed and disgraced rather than foreclosed. Settles better in my conscience, too, wretched being that I am.
No sightings. No word in weeks. Bribed an older woman to walk into the Dragon and ask after her "son," to say she'd seen him entering and hoped he was considering marrying his sweetheart. All he'd walked out with was a set of silver hair pins, so they said. Can't risk sending another again, so must content myself with that. He'd better emerge again, I won't let this opportunity pass.
So I take on whatever identity they ask. Serving wench. Street walker. Idle Gold heiress. One half of an amorous couple at Waukeen's Promenade. Servant boy, once - quite uncomfortable. I do it gladly, knowing it will help my ultimate ends. I'll have to distance myself from my handlers when I feel I'm ready, once the catspaws have been eliminated, but I'll likely be as prepared as I'll ever be when I do.
Caught him today at the Great Griffin. Near three months from last sighting. His ink couldn't get redder, I'm not on assignment. Prepared, this time. He left through Alandamer again, and I took the potion. Careful of the terrain, mindful of dust and noise, I followed. Either he's going home or to another assignment. Late afternoon, so balance of probability dictates the former unless his schedule is unusual.
A few handlers have guessed at my motivations. It's unlikely they've guessed as to the extent I'll take them. I've been very careful, as though a Cowled was over my shoulder the whole time. I won't risk the Cabal's work. My vendetta will be satisfied by my own hand or I will die in the attempt, a no-name rogue element with no ties to anyone or anything. My fair complexion will help - many already believe me to be a foreigner, even when I wear a turban.
Target is relaxing more the deeper we get into the countryside, the tension leaving his posture. I've had to take another potion. I do not think he suspects - he stays on the road. Weather is highly unusual. Visibility is low. Target veers off toward a cottage now and I must stay closer than I am comfortable with, time my footfalls with his. I let the distance widen as his destination becomes clear - the front door - and I wait in the middle of the road as he enters. Light spills out when the door opens.
The catspaws will remember. How could they not? Such an eventful night. With the proper motivation they will tell me the names of the families who employed them, or they will tell me who arranged it. I will follow their direction, up the bloody chain to those established houses who were so threatened by mine. I will give them reason to fear. It starts with the man who slid his knife into my mother's ribs.
Fog is rolling in more, I call for Tania and sit down out of sight. Cannot confront the Target without a full understanding. She takes wing and I look through her eyes, hear through her ears. I bid her settle on the roof. I can hear a fire, that much I knew already. The Target's footsteps. Quiet. If this is an assignment I'd better - but no. He announces himself. Warmly. With affection. Three voices answer back.
I won't end them like they nearly ended us, I believe myself better than that. I hope that isn't delusion. I will pay them their just wages, though. Those who gave the orders will be brought to justice. Their lackeys as well. From the bottom to the top. It's been a long time coming, but I think I'm ready to begin.
Target has done very well for himself. Target has a family.
