The captain from earlier yells from the center of the room. "Everyone! Everyone! Your attention, please!"

The ambient discussion fades away. "We have our warrant. We've got them on worshipping a proscribed deity, unregistered alchemical production, and mass agitation of Vault creatures. We believe their bolthole is underneath a warehouse owned by one Reiner Davaulus, who we now also have a warrant for."

He takes a breath. "This operation shall contain two formations. Formation one shall be comprised of myself, the squad of marines, four of our five clerics, our third circle wizard, our sorcerer, and two more squads of guardsmen. Nineteen total. Formation one shall ambush the cultists via the underground access tunnels in the sewers. A runner has located a closer entrance to the depths than the one we used prior."

"Formation two shall be comprised of a second captain, three dozen guardsmen, our last cleric, and our second circle wizard. They shall breach the warehouse on the surface. Like this, we will trap the cultists. If we're lucky, they'll surrender. Our wizard with the first formation will cast light on a small device. When formation one breaches the underground compound, he shall cast it again, and the light with formation two will turn off. That's formation two's signal to breach. Is that clear?"

A dozen guardsmen shout. "Yes, sir!"

So she's going to be diving into the poorly-explored sewers to try to ambush cultists who were probably prepared for this, and who have been altering the sewer terrain to be better for them. With no real information about the layout or what might be waiting for them. This is a plan which should go perfectly with no flaws whatsoever. Humans.

At this point she's kind of stuck, though, and she does want them to succeed. "Yes, sir. Groups for spell planning?"

"Formation one, gather over here!" He walks to one corner of the room. "That's most of us. Formation two shall form later."

"Now, spellcasters, what do you have today?"

The wizard speaks first. "I have mage armor, sleep, two snowballs and a magic missile at first; protection from arrows, mirror image, glitterdust, flaming sphere, and knock at second; dispel magic, two hastes, fireball, and lightning bolt at third. I can haste six, so we'll have twelve buffed."

The clerics have a mix of spells. Bless, divine favor, protection from evil, a summon monster, a few bursts of radiance, one silence, etc.

Bless is their big group buff, which will get everyone.

"Do we have the funds for a Blessing of the Watch? It's redundant with the Blesses, but Cures are good to have and it means we can push their buff durations."

The captain nods. "We'll have a blessing of the watch done on everyone when we leave. Clerics, feel free to convert your bless into a cure if the need arises."

She sits forward, speaking briskly and radiating authority. "In that case, the risk is that the cult does have high circle casters. Mostly clerics, but they have no doubt recruited from the Hall of Whispers, I'd expect some wizardry. Clerics are best with time to prepare, so we want to waste that time. The warehouse blueprint claims it has several rooms, I assume? Worst case, they have zombies and skeletons to slow us down and make noise, then they buff while we're stopped. Blessing of the Watch is our only time limit, so we want to make them waste their buff time. If they come out, they're leaving the safety of their Explosive Runes, or their Symbols if they could find the components, or their shrine-boosted Desecrates, or whatever they have set up. We want that. Shake down a room, make sure it's nice and obvious to anyone in the next that we're on our way in, then wait ten minutes, roll a few dice for an extra ten or so. If they buff up when they hear us coming, we can wait out the times. If they wait, they have to guess our dice. If they buff and come through the door when we don't enter, we get them out of their prepared terrain."

Then she fades back, slumping a bit in her chair, leaning a little awkwardly as she nods to the captain. "...or we go with the standard guard protocol, whatever that is. I have at least six spells left for the day, which can be Color Spray or Ray of Enfeeblement, or they can be a new spell I got this morning. I'd guess it's Silent Image. If I say I'm using my new spell, that means it's an illusion, expect it to be fake and look closely. I'll try for a thick fog, something which could be Obscuring Mist or Fog Cloud, so with luck the Urgathoans won't all see through it."

"That's a decent plan. What we do depends mostly on what they do; we're going in loud, demanding their surrender. If they hole up, we'll try to draw them out. Silent image and color spray are both good, but try not to hit our guys with them."

"Would you rather be covered knowing it's an illusion, or be uncovered and be an obvious target? I can try for either."

"We need to see the enemy to fight them. If there's ranged combatants feel free to obscure their sight, but please keep the melee clear."

"As you say." If the wizard or the clerics have a different preference, they are free to speak up.

The clerics and the wizard do not comment.

The guardsmen spend the next fifteen minutes getting fully geared. They gleam in their metal breastplate, equipped with halberds and swords and crossbows. Both formations, over fifty men together, march down through the Citadel to an outdoor staging area. A priest of Abadar gives them the blessing of the watch. Tencednil feels warm and her nerves settle.

Much attention is paid to them as the formations march together up through Midland and North Point. They cross one of the widest bridges into Old Korvosa. The streets empty before them, shady characters of Bridgefront running into alleys and hiding from the scouring eye of the law.

At an three-way intersection, with the Shingles hanging above them, they stop. The first captain speaks. "This is where we split up. Formation one, with me! Formation two, remember the plan!"

The wizard casts light on a small stone and gives it to the second captain. The formations split apart and head in different directions.

The captain leads them down a dark alley with a wide sewer hole. The tunnel angles downward sharply. "Here's our access point. It should be about fifteen minutes to our destination."

They go forward.

The sewers are dark and horrible. Lanterns are pulled out and lit. The formation descends rapidly, down long winding staircases. It seems their route this time avoids ladders.

Tencednil recognizes this section of the deep sewers as they emerge from a doorway in the wall. The access tunnels are evenly spaced on the walls.

Only a few minutes later, they round a corner and they see the barrels. There are now four of them.

The captain speaks quietly. "Everyone, get in formation. Marines up front. Wizards and sorcerers in the middle. Clerics spread throughout. Guardsmen leading up the back."

Seems like she'll be prioritizing Ray of Enfeeblement, and possibly Silent Image if she's right about it. She likes being in the middle! It is also a bad place for Color Spray.

She gets in formation.

Everyone is in formation. "Minute buffs!"

The clerics cast a variety of personal spells. The wizard casts mirror image on himself and haste (twice) on the marines and the guardsmen. Finally, he casts light on a small rock.

"Charge!" The captain roars!

They flow forward like a wave, two-by-two, shoulder-to-shoulder down the hallway. A wooden door is visible thirty feet ahead of them, and the marines splinter it like torn paper.

"THIS IS THE KORVOSAN GUARD! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST! SURRENDER NOW—"

The stinging scent of harsh chemicals chokes this high-ceilinged chamber. Three huge metal vats bubble here, each more than six feet tall. A sturdy series of catwalks ten feet off the stretches over and around the vats, allowing those above to attend whatever horrible liquid produces the foul red mist emanating from each gigantic vessel. Circling the upper portion of the room is an elaborate mosaic of white, black, and green stone that depicts a giant half-skeletal woman in black veils dancing among fields of the dead, undead, and dying.