the target
Posted: Sun May 21, 2023 9:12 am
123, 70th of glade
Ivar was in the city's alleys, like a mouse in a maze. He liked this place. Here, he could practice his short-range teleporting. He could practice this just about anywhere but he was killing two birds with one afternoon. He was practicing his magic and earning money at the same time.
The old stones on the ground under his feet were there one second, gone the next. He'd go from standing on them one moment to seeing them from a distance the next. He'd use his magic and just like that, he was somewhere else in the alley. It was a good place for practice, hidden and quiet.
Every time he teleported, it was exciting. Like a game of tag with himself. He'd look at a place, really hard, then poof, he was there. He was like a ghost, popping up here and there. At first, it made him dizzy, but the more he did it, the less dizzy he felt.
This wasn't just for fun, though. There was something he needed to do, something important. He needed to get really good at teleporting. Getting used to how it felt was only part of it. There was something more he had to do.
The sounds of the city filled the night. People talking, an owl hooting, the sound of a lute somewhere far away. It was like music for his training.
As the night went on, Ivar kept teleporting. He was getting tired, but he liked that. It meant he was working hard. Even though he was sweating, he didn't stop. The dark, quiet alleys were perfect for his practice.
With every teleport, he got better. He was more careful, more in control. He felt powerful when he moved from place to place. It made him feel ready for the task he had to do. The more he practiced, the more sure he was that he could do it. He was like a ghost in the night, training his magic.
Ivar was doing this teleporting thing for two reasons. One, to get better at it, of course. But two, to find stuff out. The city had lots of secrets, and Ivar knew that if you knew stuff, you had power. His teleporting let him be like a fly on the wall, listening and watching, but not seen.
There was this guy, a short, round guy with really dark hair, who was the talk of the town. People said he owed a bunch of money, and that made Ivar interested in him. So, while he was out teleporting, he also looked for this man.
The alleys might have seemed empty, but there was a lot going on. Secret meetings, quiet talks, stuff exchanged under the cover of night. Ivar would pop up near these goings-on, hidden in the shadows. He'd watch and listen, hoping to hear something about the guy he was looking for.
This made Ivar's nights kind of like a game. He'd move around, watching and listening, and teleporting from place to place. He was like a ghost in the alleys, watching everything but not being seen.
He got used to the sounds of the night. Leaves rustling, footsteps echoing, low voices talking. They were like his friends while he was out there on his own, finding out about the city's secrets.
It wasn't always easy. Sometimes, he'd spend the whole night and not find out anything. But that didn't stop him. He knew that sometimes, you just had to be patient and keep trying. So he kept going, because he liked the chase and the reward at the end of it.
Ivar was getting better and better at knowing the city's rhythm, the way it was busy and quiet at night. He felt like he was part of the city now, always watching, but never seen. His teleporting and spying were starting to feel like one big thing that made up who he was. He was getting better and better at both, and he was excited about it.
The next bit of his mission was a bit tougher. He was looking for the man with the dark hair even more seriously. His nights were a blur of moving fast and trying to find out stuff. But he kept at it, not giving up.
He kept practicing his teleporting, but his mind was always on the man he was looking for. He felt like he was getting closer and closer, but he just couldn't find him.
Even though he couldn't find the man, Ivar didn't get discouraged. He used it as motivation to get even better at what he was doing.
His teleporting got even better. He could go further and faster, popping in and out of places super quick. This let him check out more of the city, more places where the man might be hiding.
He knew the city like the back of his hand now. Every alley, every corner, every dark spot, he knew them all. This made him feel like he had an advantage in his search.
Even though he hadn't found the man yet, Ivar felt like he was getting close. People were talking about the man, giving him hints about where he might be. Ivar knew it was just a matter of time until he found him.
He knew he had to be patient. The waiting was making him feel both excited and a little nervous, but it kept him going. He was ready for the last part of his mission.
He had a feeling about a certain corner of the city that night. It was a sketchy part of town, a good place for someone hiding out. He felt like he was really close to finding the man. Sunk cost fallacy kept Ivar going even knowing full well he might not find anyone interesting tonight. He only needed to find one person every once in a while to make his time worth it. It was like a gamble.
He popped into a dark alley and looked around really closely. He was really focused, taking in everything around him. He could feel the tension in the air, like something big was about to happen.
Then, he saw the man. He was hiding behind some crates. He was short and round, with hair as dark as the night sky. He looked just like Ivar had thought he would, like someone who was in a lot of trouble. Ivar was surprised he’d even spotted him.
Ivar watched him from the shadows for a minute, feeling a thrill of success. He had found him. Every tip, every hushed conversation, and every late-night investigation had led him to this precise moment. The realization brought a rush of exhilaration that surged through his veins, setting his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.
He was just as he had been described, every detail matching the rumors that had circulated within the city's underground network. It was an uncanny sight, almost as though he had conjured the man out of the whisperings and shadowed murmurs that filled the dark corners of the city.
However, despite the thrill of success and the primal urge to confront his quarry, Ivar understood the reality of his situation. He was not a fighter, a sword-wielding warrior or a burly brawler. He was an information broker who dealt with words and secrets. His strength lay not in physical confrontation but in the magical skill of short-range teleportation and the strategic gathering and utilization of information.
With this realization, he knew his next move. Just as the man turned to look in Ivar’s direction, he was gone. The mission wasn't over yet. He withdrew deeper into the shadows, his form melting away into the inky darkness, leaving no trace of his presence. His heart pounded with anticipation, the thrill of the chase not yet over.
He was about to play his hand, the final move in the strategic game he had been weaving all along. He navigated his way through the alleys, tracing a familiar path towards his destination. His objective was clear find his contact.
This person was more than just an informant. They were an ally, a critical player in this delicate game of cat and mouse that Ivar found himself in. Finding his contact, a shrewd, seasoned operative within the city's underbelly, Ivar relayed the vital information.
He revealed the man's location, his appearance, the urgency of the situation. This was the final piece of the puzzle, the last bit of information that his contact needed to act. As Ivar departed, leaving his contact to their task, he felt the weight of coins in his hands. This was his livelihood, the way he made ends meet.
As a broker, he may not have been the one to draw a sword or throw a punch, but he played an equally crucial role in the sprawling saga of the city's underworld. This was how he earned his keep. It was risky, dangerous even, but for Ivar, there was no thrill quite like it.
Ivar was in the city's alleys, like a mouse in a maze. He liked this place. Here, he could practice his short-range teleporting. He could practice this just about anywhere but he was killing two birds with one afternoon. He was practicing his magic and earning money at the same time.
The old stones on the ground under his feet were there one second, gone the next. He'd go from standing on them one moment to seeing them from a distance the next. He'd use his magic and just like that, he was somewhere else in the alley. It was a good place for practice, hidden and quiet.
Every time he teleported, it was exciting. Like a game of tag with himself. He'd look at a place, really hard, then poof, he was there. He was like a ghost, popping up here and there. At first, it made him dizzy, but the more he did it, the less dizzy he felt.
This wasn't just for fun, though. There was something he needed to do, something important. He needed to get really good at teleporting. Getting used to how it felt was only part of it. There was something more he had to do.
The sounds of the city filled the night. People talking, an owl hooting, the sound of a lute somewhere far away. It was like music for his training.
As the night went on, Ivar kept teleporting. He was getting tired, but he liked that. It meant he was working hard. Even though he was sweating, he didn't stop. The dark, quiet alleys were perfect for his practice.
With every teleport, he got better. He was more careful, more in control. He felt powerful when he moved from place to place. It made him feel ready for the task he had to do. The more he practiced, the more sure he was that he could do it. He was like a ghost in the night, training his magic.
Ivar was doing this teleporting thing for two reasons. One, to get better at it, of course. But two, to find stuff out. The city had lots of secrets, and Ivar knew that if you knew stuff, you had power. His teleporting let him be like a fly on the wall, listening and watching, but not seen.
There was this guy, a short, round guy with really dark hair, who was the talk of the town. People said he owed a bunch of money, and that made Ivar interested in him. So, while he was out teleporting, he also looked for this man.
The alleys might have seemed empty, but there was a lot going on. Secret meetings, quiet talks, stuff exchanged under the cover of night. Ivar would pop up near these goings-on, hidden in the shadows. He'd watch and listen, hoping to hear something about the guy he was looking for.
This made Ivar's nights kind of like a game. He'd move around, watching and listening, and teleporting from place to place. He was like a ghost in the alleys, watching everything but not being seen.
He got used to the sounds of the night. Leaves rustling, footsteps echoing, low voices talking. They were like his friends while he was out there on his own, finding out about the city's secrets.
It wasn't always easy. Sometimes, he'd spend the whole night and not find out anything. But that didn't stop him. He knew that sometimes, you just had to be patient and keep trying. So he kept going, because he liked the chase and the reward at the end of it.
Ivar was getting better and better at knowing the city's rhythm, the way it was busy and quiet at night. He felt like he was part of the city now, always watching, but never seen. His teleporting and spying were starting to feel like one big thing that made up who he was. He was getting better and better at both, and he was excited about it.
The next bit of his mission was a bit tougher. He was looking for the man with the dark hair even more seriously. His nights were a blur of moving fast and trying to find out stuff. But he kept at it, not giving up.
He kept practicing his teleporting, but his mind was always on the man he was looking for. He felt like he was getting closer and closer, but he just couldn't find him.
Even though he couldn't find the man, Ivar didn't get discouraged. He used it as motivation to get even better at what he was doing.
His teleporting got even better. He could go further and faster, popping in and out of places super quick. This let him check out more of the city, more places where the man might be hiding.
He knew the city like the back of his hand now. Every alley, every corner, every dark spot, he knew them all. This made him feel like he had an advantage in his search.
Even though he hadn't found the man yet, Ivar felt like he was getting close. People were talking about the man, giving him hints about where he might be. Ivar knew it was just a matter of time until he found him.
He knew he had to be patient. The waiting was making him feel both excited and a little nervous, but it kept him going. He was ready for the last part of his mission.
He had a feeling about a certain corner of the city that night. It was a sketchy part of town, a good place for someone hiding out. He felt like he was really close to finding the man. Sunk cost fallacy kept Ivar going even knowing full well he might not find anyone interesting tonight. He only needed to find one person every once in a while to make his time worth it. It was like a gamble.
He popped into a dark alley and looked around really closely. He was really focused, taking in everything around him. He could feel the tension in the air, like something big was about to happen.
Then, he saw the man. He was hiding behind some crates. He was short and round, with hair as dark as the night sky. He looked just like Ivar had thought he would, like someone who was in a lot of trouble. Ivar was surprised he’d even spotted him.
Ivar watched him from the shadows for a minute, feeling a thrill of success. He had found him. Every tip, every hushed conversation, and every late-night investigation had led him to this precise moment. The realization brought a rush of exhilaration that surged through his veins, setting his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.
He was just as he had been described, every detail matching the rumors that had circulated within the city's underground network. It was an uncanny sight, almost as though he had conjured the man out of the whisperings and shadowed murmurs that filled the dark corners of the city.
However, despite the thrill of success and the primal urge to confront his quarry, Ivar understood the reality of his situation. He was not a fighter, a sword-wielding warrior or a burly brawler. He was an information broker who dealt with words and secrets. His strength lay not in physical confrontation but in the magical skill of short-range teleportation and the strategic gathering and utilization of information.
With this realization, he knew his next move. Just as the man turned to look in Ivar’s direction, he was gone. The mission wasn't over yet. He withdrew deeper into the shadows, his form melting away into the inky darkness, leaving no trace of his presence. His heart pounded with anticipation, the thrill of the chase not yet over.
He was about to play his hand, the final move in the strategic game he had been weaving all along. He navigated his way through the alleys, tracing a familiar path towards his destination. His objective was clear find his contact.
This person was more than just an informant. They were an ally, a critical player in this delicate game of cat and mouse that Ivar found himself in. Finding his contact, a shrewd, seasoned operative within the city's underbelly, Ivar relayed the vital information.
He revealed the man's location, his appearance, the urgency of the situation. This was the final piece of the puzzle, the last bit of information that his contact needed to act. As Ivar departed, leaving his contact to their task, he felt the weight of coins in his hands. This was his livelihood, the way he made ends meet.
As a broker, he may not have been the one to draw a sword or throw a punch, but he played an equally crucial role in the sprawling saga of the city's underworld. This was how he earned his keep. It was risky, dangerous even, but for Ivar, there was no thrill quite like it.
