I can't seem to commune with the Void on a full stomach. Gotta be hungry, starving for best effect. I start getting those pangs, and that's when I hear it, almost like a voice whispering through me. When I first learned that lesson, I thought morning jobs would be a dealbreaker, with breakfast being the most important meal of the day and all. Yet here I am, at the crack of dawn, perched on top of a big ol' tree, fantasizing about my next bite. Not terrible as far as stakeouts go, and if you gotta pay off a debt to a scummy scum-lord, then you're lucky to have a place to sit. I've got eyes on my mark; have for days. This Kell's finally looking nice and cozy, asleep in the open and surrounded by his servants. Thought they're supposed to be the last line of defense, but they haven't noticed me yet. Guess good help is hard to come by. I'd have taken the shot hours ago, but I'm supposed to shoot a warning first, so he knows what's coming. That way he "goes out knowing who got him." Warlords love sending their little messages, and it's gonna fall on deaf ears if he's asleep. This guy just keeps snoozing. I envy that. Which reminds me, I've discovered another little trick to getting in good with that yawning mouth of nothing we call the Void: exhaustion. When I start slipping into that twilight, where I'm not sure if I'm awake or dreaming, I can feel the absence. It's close enough to touch. I guess it doesn't matter if it's literal or metaphorical. The Void just likes it when I'm running on empty. He's stirring now. Time to get this done. I loose a volley into his bed post. The telltale otherworldly sucking sound—poor guy tries to fight it, but he's got no chance. He looks around frantically for the shooter, then recognition hits his face. That's my cue! …Boom, job done. Can't do that on a full stomach.