Phaeton's Falcons

After the others leave, Livingston makes his way over to the maid, calling on a cup of strong tea. He heads to his room, sitting at the desk when he enters. Jotting down a few notes in his journal, he is interrupted by a soft rap on the door. Knowing it is his tea, he answers it quickly and thanks the maid, bidding her goodnight. He closes the door and turns his back to the door, surveying his room. Pulling the cup up to his mouth, he quaffs half the drink in his first attempt. The heat warms his throat and his stomach, alleviating the unease that has been steadily growing.

He places the saucer and cup down on the desk next to his journal and sets to getting everything ready. Pulling out his breastplate, he doesn't bother wiping it down or oiling it, knowing that he's meant to be visible and seen. The blood red of the metal seems dull tonight, lacking any vibrancy. Grabbing his backpack and cloak, he sets those down on his bed. When it is time, he'll pull on his breastplate, already used to the many straps and clasps, being able to maneuver them all on his own. He'll then don his backpack, making sure it is secured tightly and adjusting the shoulders so that it rests high on his back, above his shoulder blades. Once finished, he'll grasp his cloak tightly in a hand and shake his shoulders around a bit, noting if anything rattles in his armor or backpack. Satisfied with the result, he whips his large cloak around, making sure it covers all of his front and back, then clasping it underneath his neck and the one around his belly so that his armor does not show.

Pulling the hood over his head, he relishes the light leaving his eyes, knowing his face is bathed in shadows. He heads back to his desk, milking the last of his tea. He grabs his morningstar that is placed on top of the wooden top, feeling each point with his thumb. While not overly sharp, he knows that with the proper force, they will penetrate steel and skin alike. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, balancing the weight of his weapon in his hand.

He has never taken a life before, not of any humanoid. Although the idea makes him nervous, he's not wholly unprepared. It is unlikely he will have to kill tonight, but he knows blood will be shed.

Once he gets outside with the others and notes the dark, damp weather, he will smile.

"This night bodes well and looks to be in our favor. I like our chances."

Deric retires to his room to gather some shut eye before the midnight raid. He is somewhat nervous, but strangely excited about the project. Up until now, he has known only academia, the martial aspect of magic has eluded his grasp, except for a timely cantrip or two to put buffoons in their place.

Deric looks over his crossbow, making sure that the mechanism is functioning well, then lays out his "gear". After laying basically his clothes out, he thinks to himself,"I really don't have much stuff."

Midnight approaches and Deric heads out into the common room to wait for everyone to assemble. His crossbow is strapped to his back, over his cloak, he left his staff in his room, bringing his dagger for hand to hand combat (which he hopes not to have to partake in). Scrolls are at the ready, with a few in belt pouches, and the rest, along with his potions, in various pockets.

OOC:

Moving things along, I am still unsure of the gameplan. We are going to pick the lock on the door at X13 (on map), along with some sort of diversion in front?

Deric will move to the back of the building with the others who will be back there. He will assist in the opening of the door (by casting "Silent Portal") on it after it has been picked so that no noise is made by the opening.

Deric will mainly be in the rear of the group, assisting with crossbow fire and spellcasting.

Vyleya Argnon, Human Fighter 2

Vyleya nods at Livingston's commentary on the weather, "Yeah, looks good," she tightens her grip on her halberd, looking around as everyone gathers. "Guess it's time to get this over with," she half-smiles as they set out for the warehouse.

As they get near the warehouse, she glances around, "With the mist and all, do we really need a distraction? Maybe we could just cause one if it looks like we're going to be discovered... or would that be too late? I just don't want to make them suspicious if we don't have to... they might not even have their weapons and armor on hand if they are careless. Gurv, you said they might be new at this kind of thing."

With the warehouse is sight, she nods to the smaller of the two alleys leading to the back of the warehouse, "That's where I want to be, I'll cover you from the corner up there." She looks to Ickle, "Let me know when your ready for us to go in, I'll move up then. Sharp blades at your back and all that." She flashes him a quick smile, then makes ready to move into position.

OOC: My assumption (which may be wrong) is that Ickle will go to the door, with Gurv and Livingston to provide him with help near at hand if needed. Vyleya, Deric and Roland will be further back in the alley to cover with ranged weapons or spells. I'd like personally for Vyleya to move up the "18" Alley to Y18, leaning her halberd against the wall and setting up with her loaded Heavy Crossbow. While moving she'd try and keep out of sight of any windows the warehouse has and be as quiet as she can. She'll lead the way unless the stealthy types prefer to have a go at it before her.

Gurv looks at Livingston as they walk over to the warehouse, then turns to the rest of the party.

"I think Livingston and I should get in position and put our act on. I hope to not be seen but if we are spotted, I hope to be disregarded. Once we establish ourselves, I think Ickle should move up and do his thing. The rest of you should be ready to move once the door is sprung and the coast is clear."

Vyleya Argnon, Human Fighter 2

Vyleya nods, adjusting her cloak as the damp air begins to make it cling. "Just be careful, we still don't know what exactly is back there. How far back should we stay?" She squints her eyes as she looks ahead, "Hard to see in this mess."

The night is dark, and there is very little light in the alleys, but enough to make out buildings. Again, light comes from inside the warehouse. You manage to get into position and no-one has come out the back.

Ickle, I need a few open lock rolls from you. Go ahead and give me a half dozen. If there are any positions wrong on the map, let me know.

OOC: the scale of the map 1 sq = 10'?

Deric readies himself by the door, ready to assist Ickle with the opening of the door when the lock is picked. "Well, here we go", Deric mumbles to himself.

He wonders what they will find within the warehouse -- humans? Humanoids? Orcs? Gnolls? He read about them in books at the university, but standing here, in this dark, dank alley somehow makes that seem so far away...

"Criminy -- this fog is horrible."

ooc: map is 5' squares

Livingston stands there at guard, his right hand gripped tightly on his morningstar as he watches Ickle manipulate the lock on the door, his left hand caressing Kelemvor's symbol. He stays alert, hoping to hear anything before it can surprise him, a spell ready on his lips should the need arise.