Deric strides into the room. He is currently wearing his gray silk tunic and black cotton trousers, held up on his lithe frame with a thick black leather belt. The soft thudding of his black leather boots echo softly against the stonework floor. He is carrying nothing but the clothes on his person, as he is want to do. Hard labor and trudging around with a load of equipment is not for him, unless needed. He is intrigued by the motley group presented before him -- a gnome, a halfing, a female human, and 2 other men. Deric keeps thinking in his mind about what exactly brought him into connection with these other beings -- was it fate, destiny, or pure luck. Often he ponders on the outcome of events, marvelling at the randomness inherent in nature. These vast energies that lie beneath the surface... If one could harness this energy, to bend it to ones will, then they would be a most formidable power in the realm. No matter the subject at hand, Deric's mind always drifts towards the study of energy -- the storage, the manipulation, the unleashing -- all whirl through his mind.
Deric caught himself again -- drifting off in hypothetical thought, instead of concentrating at the tasks at hand. He took a seat and leafed through the folio.
Deric gestures to Phaeton -- "Phaeton - first a question -- this minor noble family which owns the warehouse, are they unaware of the current occupants? Do they not receive a monthly stipend from this property? Do you think they could be in league with these thieves?"
"I would also like to thank you for the generous accomodations that you have provided for the group, my only request be that Melena is sent out to procure some wine of greater reknown -- I took the liberty of examining the stock at the house and I dare say, that it would not reflect properly on your house to be serving such..."
"I am not overly familar with the locale of Arabel, could someone advise me on the proximity of the warehouse noted on the map?"
Deric surveys the group -- first at the human female, who is carrying a very large pointy stick. He ponders to himself whether that is because her father did not pay enough attention to her -- the reasons for such things will become apparent in time. Then he glances at the small people, he then wonders to himself -- do they mind being called small people, or possibly vertically challenged, or just little? Obviously if you called them a dwarf, they'd look at you funny - he'll have to make a mental note to remember their names. Regardless, both of them look quite agile, and thus would seem to be a natural fit for this type of task.
Deric again mentally wanders off, thinking of the best spells needed for this type of mission -- one hinging upon secrecy, stealth, and not allowing any escapees.
Coming back to the conversation at hand, Deric sits back in his chair, puts his fingers up to his chin, and begins to study the coalescing dynamic of the team before him.
I haven't been in a fistfight in 20 years. Some dude clocks me, so I clocked him back and his four friends jump me and one of them filleted my forehead with a Corona. It was broken up pretty quickly, but man do head wounds bleed! One trip to the emergency room later, I've got 12 stitches in my head and a pair of broken glasses. I'm sitting here typing in my sunglasses and my wife is laughing at me. The pain meds are starting to kick in so I'm sure I'm rambling. 
