Welcome to the gameplay thread.
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doot
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Thratch takes one of Tenchi's dots and uses it as his own.
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Prologue: To Steal a Painting
The dreams began many months ago. A woman in chains, within a blood red room, calling out for help. On the first night of the full moon, the dreams are more intense. The room itself is bathed in the moonlight, and the woman attempts to free herself, only to fail.
At first you didn’t know what to make of the dreams, but over the months as they intensified, you have become obsessed. You felt confused and helpless about the dreams. You wondered if you were going mad. You wondered if you could help her.
As the dreams repeated, the woman whispered secrets to you amidst her cries for help.
First you learned that there’s a painting of her, that is the gateway to her prison. It’s held in a vast city in the North. This was revealed five months ago.
Two weeks later you learned the city is named Vornheim, somewhere in the Northeast. Yet you find no written record of such a city. You’ve never heard of it.
Three months ago you learned the painting’s title is “False Chanterelle.”
A few days later you met some travelers who claim to have come from Vornheim. They tell you it’s located in the land of Rashemen, in the Northeast. You still find no records of it. You decide you must journey to Vornheim and find the painting.
It takes you two months to make the difficult journey, at great risk and cost. You had to go on some dangerous and questionable adventures to raise the money for the journey. At least you found some magic items for your troubles.
Ten days ago, you laid eyes on Vornheim for the first time. It seems that many travelers have been coming to the city of late. You keep seeing other adventurers showing up at the same locations. Are they also on a quest for the painting?
The city is vast, sprawling and maze like, yet somehow easy to navigate. You set about exploring it, trying to find information about the painting. It’s not quite like any city you’ve ever visited before. Something just seems… off about it.
You had a final dream of the painting three days ago, the most intense one yet. The woman tells you that you’re close. You must steal the False Chanterelle and hang it in a room in a tower where the moonlight will illuminate the painting. You must do this on the second night of the full moon, which is in three days.
You see a tower along the northeastern wall with a lone window facing south. Instantly you know that this is where you must hang the painting. But now you only have three days left to find it and steal it.
This morning, you awoke in your lodgings to find one of your magic items missing, stolen while you slept. In its place, the following note:
“I have your magical treasure. Needed to get your attention. Meet midday at The Devil’s Cavern in the Southwest quadrant if you want it back. I can help you get your painting for a price."
You arrive at The Devil’s Cavern at the assigned time. You enter carefully, and see that it’s a cozy, dimly lit establishment. The wooden tables and chairs look worn, but comfortable. The bar is well stocked, and a large fireplace is along the back wall. The only exits you see are the one you entered through and a hallway at the back to the left of the fireplace.
As look around the room you see the same adventurers who have been showing up elsewhere, and they seem as surprised as you are to see everyone. This is no mere coincidence…
A man strides into the inn, looking about the room impatiently. He is clearly of Kara-Turan descent, with tanned skin and his dark hair swept into a top-knot. His almond shaped eyes are of a dark green color, and he is wearing oddly styled armor made of mithral. while two curved sheathes sit on his right hip, only one of them has a blade sheathed in it. He pulls a conical shaped hat made of straw from his head, looks at the other assembled adventurers, and says in heavily accented common "Do any of you know the thief who stole my honor? or of a painting with a woman trapped inside?"
A girl with small ear-like horns, pointed teeth and cats eyes perks up. She hesitates a moment, then curtsies and tilts her head at the foreign looking gentleman.
"Is your honor a magical trinket perchance? I am missing an implement myself. And the painting has been leaking into my dreams, perhaps we should pool our resources here?"
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Thratch woke up, still feeling off about *not* having the dream for the second night in a row.
That dream is always do weird, I should be thanking the stars.
He washed his hands and face in the washbin and started collecting his belongings. Where is it? What the hell, where is it?
His Raven. The Silver Raven was missing. In its place was a note. Oh man, Thratch said aloud, Garund is going to kill me.
Well. Let's go see what this is all about.
He arrived early and hid outside to see who entered the establishment. But as he started to recognize people from the road, he figured he must do this job from the inside. Too many variables to plan from the outside. So he entered. And he stayed quiet. Right up until the others mentioned the painting.
Wh-what do you mean it has been leaking into your dreams? What do you know of it? Where can it be found?
"I only know that it is near, and I say it leaks because it doesn't seem like it's really a dream, it's something from reality that's pushed it's way into my head." Lys giggles, "That sounded a bit weird, but by the look on your face you understand what I mean"
She curtsies again, "I'm Lys, castoff and wonderer."
"My honor is my wakizashi, what the uncultured would call a short sword. It was missing from my belongings and I will have it back."
.......................................................................
Tenchi bows and says "It is a pleasure to meet you Lys. my name is Kusinagi Tenchi, student of the Kusinagi Blade Master school, as was my father before me and his father before him."
"As to the question of the painting, it has been appearing in my dreams with great frequency for the last few months, and that I have, through asking people, learned that it is being held in a fortress turned art gallery called The Painter & Sage Emporium of Fine Arts, Curiosities and Rare Artifacts, which is run by two people who may or may not be shugenja (the stories vary). If the stories and rumors can be trusted, they are what I am told are called knights of the post, or people of dishonor. I was planning to visit them today, but my honor was taken from me and I have arrived here to take it back."
An unassuming middle aged man with dark skin sits quietly nursing a drink, intent on listening in the smallish room for the moment. It seems the people here are there for the same reasons, which explains why he remembers the faces without remembering the names. Well, if a boss-man is to show himself then the crowd seems as able as any. With the mention of magical items these are obviously foreigners too, I wonder where they comes from - though Tenchi is a bit too much like my family for his own good.
He sips his drink looking around a bit more, Only time will tell...
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A big man in heavy splinted armor steps in a few paces behind the Kara-Turan. His biceps are like boulders and his legs like tree-stumps. A massive sword rides easily upon his barn door-wide back.
He catches the last snipets of the conversation, and takes the moment to make his salutations. "Greetings to you, fair Lys, and to you, honorable Kusinagi," he gravels out, his voice deep and bellicose, like two boulders grating each other to dust. "I am Brother Aterro Dominatus, a martial cleric of Torm, though I'm far from my homeland. And, yes, 'tis paintings and dreams that have carried me thus far, like a leaf upon the wind.
Also, yes, I have heard tidings that this Painter & Sage may be a place of some import, perhaps holding the key to that which is sought.
So too, an item of some import was taken from me, with the purpose of getting my attention." The armored warrior glances down self-consciously at his feet, which, in contrast to his steel-garbed form, are encompassed by naught save thin slippers of blue felt. "I had a pair of steel-clad boots that made the wearer lighter than air. In truth, I had meant to use them to secure the painting and then alight to the tower where it must be placed...but now that plan has been sundered, at least until our...benefactor...makes intentions known."
Catching the attention of a passive serving-wench he orders a pitcher of ale and, after thinking upon it, four cups, in case his fellow art-dreamers are thirsty.
Amidst the clamor of the Devil's hall, a door slams open.
One who might accurately portray the bar's namesake saunters inside, his presence immediately everywhere- red and afflicting.
Scanning a room of peripherally-familiar faces, he growls to those within earshot:
"Where is the challenger? The secret broker? You know of whom I speak..."
From his breast he conjures the letter with which all are acquainted, and lifts it above his head as a banner, and says in a sort of mocking manner:
"...The MASTER THIEF."
As the words roar from his throat his black hole pupils begin to widen in an unsettling manner.
The furnace king was not pleased, but he did not betray his full intent in this moment; for he did not know what it was himself...
...The last thief he smote had all too much to offer, and although it was diametrically against his nature, he relented his violence to see if this thief had something to offer too.
The matter of the painting had been naught but hellish for him.
Was it his wife returning to him, to twist the knife of their son in his back?
Was there hope to be had, or just a devilish ruse?
Either way, Vehemence was a slave to the answer, beckoning to the call of his ghostly master.
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Aterro's big face splits into a knowing smirk. "Ease thy vitriol, loud one," he says to the newcomer. He pours ale into cup from the newly delivered pitcher and pushes it in his direction. "We are a collection, currently awaiting the leisure of the master thief, who is not yet in attendance. Sit, take thy ease, and let thy rage simmer for more opportune moment."
The warcleric motions for the serving wench. He's gonna need more cups.
"ooh, hello there, you're like me, I mean not like me, but you know what I mean. Right?"
"Fine." he retorts to the priest.
The emblazoned one spins a chair around with his tail such that the back is facing the table, and sits in it.
He glances at the curious girl and makes small talk. He must settle himself if he is to strike the thief down with surprise.
He wasn't yet sold on the idea fully, but it was surely an option.
"Mortal? It may look as such, but you'd be mistaken. I am a king."
He takes the mug into his hand slowly, fingers like a spider, and addresses the circle of strangers.
"So, what did that doomed man take from each of you?"
Thratch thanks the massive suit of talking armor for the drink, and begins to share his own knowledge on the subject.
In response to the muse, he says, My lucky raven figurine. I'd really like it back.
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Oh s~$$, that one's lively! Wan'di thinks leaning in and eating popcorn he was totally always holding and isn't a contrivance. Wan'di moves and sits with the rest that seemed to have gather at one table saying, I lost my lucky stone, it would be impossible to replace something like that. It seems like we will walk together for a time, so if you are going to call me anything I would prefer it to be Wan.
"I see..."
The furnace king listens, relaxing his relentless temper for but a moment.
He drops his guard not, however.
Seeing the spell cast, Wan'di puts his hand on Vehemence's arm, I know you're new to town, but spells are not very common here - and it is distrusted. Too late to stop anything now, but be more careful my man.
"He took my honor." is all Tenchi says.
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Aterro's eyes also go wide as the Tiefling casts magicks, and he joins Wan's warning. "Indeed. Be cautious here with showings of Power. I've already had some...interesting encounters, and I am a man of Torm. However, one of your...stature...might not find it so smooth to get out of a crowd of awed and confused townfolk."
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Ignoring the warnings, Vehemence concentrates to sense magic in the room, slowly looking around.
Without warning, he is hit with a surge of magic from a dark corner, which glows very brightly to him. It's too much for him to fully discern each item, but he knows there's a lot.
At the same time a voice speaks up from the corner.
“Ha! Doomed MAN? Not too bright, are you, fallen Muse?”
The chiding voice sounds female, with an unusual pitch, not really high but not midrange either, somewhere between.
“Look at you lot, open with your secrets like some trollop with her knees! For all to know! Seems none of you are very bright at all! Might as well shout everything from the town square or the King's tower!”
Then you all notice a small, darkly-robed figure sitting in the corner behind a large round table and snickering at you. You’d swear they weren’t there a minute ago.
“I see you got my message then. At least you tall apes know how to read.” she says with derision.
Hell, that just saves me a spell.. Wan'di muses while waiting.
AS A LION IN RECOIL, the man named Vehemence bursts up from his chair to face his foe- displaying the fulness of the tenacity of his being.
"HEISTER! NAME THYSELF!"
His cloak is pulled in front of his torso in the flourish to conceal his hand. If the blade need be summoned the king wouldn't give any more advantage to his dainty foe.
But something in his heart or maybe the necklaces' caused him to pause.
His beer spills onto the table, trickling to the floor.
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Aterro stays sitting at his ease, reclining in his chair like a gothic statue holding court. One ham-hock sized hand idly twirls the amber fluid in his drinking goblet and a knowing smile grows across his face. "Yes," his gravily voice grates out. "Glynis, is that you, old friend? You have always had a screw loose, but now you have outdone yourself, tossing caution to the wind faster than springtime chaff.
Put up thy talk of trollops and knees. You were cunning enough to spike my drink yet did not even have the courtesy to take advantage of me properly!" He chortles deeply and briefly.
"But alas, that time is past. You have sought and found our attention. Have a drink and state thy business so we may again part ways. Hopefully a bit more permanently this time."
His great form is still draped casually over the chair, weighing and measuring all in attendance.
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The small being is most amused by Vehemence, and ignores Aterro for the moment.
"Settle down, fallen Muse."
"Before any of you get any ideas, I’ll have you know I have a Glyph of Warding rigged to explode in here if you try anything stupid. I might even have two!”
She pauses for a moment. A small, toned hand darts out and points at each of you, as if counting.
"Wait... fiiive ... hmmm... only six of you. One is missing... Yes, the Sorceress. Probably a run-in with the local law enforcement. They don’t like magician types being too obvious around here.”
“No worries, I’ll find her later."
She pulls back the hood to reveal a fright of fiery red and black hair, large pointed ears and black beady eyes. Her face is a touch round, and pretty, but weathered. A scar cuts through her light brown skin from her forehead and continuing along her right cheek. She has multiple rings in both ears and on all her fingers. Most of you have seen her around, and some of you have been approached by her. Most of you have spoken with her already.
“So! You’ve got a painting you want to get at, and I know how to get at it. The owners of said painting stiffed me for about 20,000 gold. I’d say we have much to offer one another, certainly me more than you. But you work with what you’ve got, so you’ll have to do.”
"Oh, and I’m called Quinys."
Slowly and mockingly to Aterro, "QUI-NYS, you oaf! Your memory is as terrible as your tolerance for drink!"
"Now quit staring and plant your asses down over here before you cause a scene! We have business to discuss!” She grins. “First round’s on you."
Tenchi remains standing and silent, but does glance down meaningfully at his empty scabbard.
He growls, then quenches his furor, gripping the shrunken withered heart on his chain.
If she is the key to the painting, her hubris must be overlooked... for a time.
Curse this WEAKNESS!
...WHAT HAVE I BECOME!?
Laying in waiting, bargaining with the underhand...
like, a...
filthy...
...COWARD!
Vehemence kurtly turns to the barmaid, commanding a fresh round for the table.
"Well Miss Quinys, I'm sorry if it offends you, but I was taught that a good girl doesn't keep secrets. Now perhaps if you would return our trinkets we would be more inclined to give you the time of day."
Thratch quietly sits down.
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Aterro keeps eye contact with the thief, maintaining his pantherine languish about his chair, the knowing smile still playing along his lips. "That is the third name I've known you to go by, but now we play your game, by your rules, so I'll not begrudge you.
And, yes, I have only mild tolerance for purest extract of the purple lotus. Were I not made of sterner stuff, I might not have awoken to be taunted by you.
But soft. The first round is already in play, and a second round advances to the line. All is readiness.
The hall is rented, the band is struck. Now...let's see if you can dance."
Wan'di quietly orders a pitcher of a blended wine with spirits and honey. The drink is seen in many places, but the basics are the same - a surprisingly stiff drink with bright sweet flavors great for groups and pre-noon drinking. Collecting the pitcher and several stemmed goblets he saunters back to the table as it is being righted.
Hey girly, Wan'di says setting the pitcher and goblets down, Lys is right we're already here and all. There's no need to threaten us with physical violence and hold our treasures for ransom; I know at least Tenchi, Thratch, and myself hold a lot of sentiment for those items beyond any typical value... and the girl in chains haunts isn't something we've sought out to make ends meet. having filled two glasses he pushes on to a spot for Quinys, Not a great first impression, but I got your drink now lets see some quid pro quo.
Quinys sits patiently and lets the group vent their frustrations. When she feels they’re done and settled down, she proceeds, with a friendlier tone.
“I admit, my methods are … drastic. But I did get your attention, didn’t I? By my small size and my trade, I’m not easily noticed, and I’ve worked hard to make that even more effective. So when I need to be noticed, I … tend to go a bit far.”
“I... I apologize.”
“I have your trinkets. Provided you don’t do anything stupid while we’re here, you will leave with them in hand. I give you my word, for what it’s worth.”
Quinys takes a large gulp of the drink Wan'di brought over.
“Couldn’t order something stronger, could you? No matter.”
She continues,
"Very well then. Let me begin my story."
“I’ve watched you all for the past week, and approached several of you, sizing you up, testing you. You have much to learn, but I’ll say you certainly have enthusiasm.”
“Now, you want to get into that gallery and take that painting. I’ve heard the story from some of you, and I see the desire burning in your eyes now. It disturbs you down to your very souls. Why? I have no idea, nor do I really care. But I want to help you get that painting, and in turn you help me get what’s owed to me by its owners.”
Another large gulp.
“Let me tell you about my former employers, the pair you seek to get this precious painting of yours. You’ve heard rumors about them around town, that they might be wizards. Some say it’s a ruse to deter thieves. It isn’t. They are wizards, and very powerful ones at that! Not the kind of folk with whom you trifle easily. The Painter and The Sage, they call themselves. Nobody knows their real names, or really much about them. They were adventurers for a time, and gathered a vast sum of wealth. Lots of stories on how it happened. Might have been a dragon’s treasure, might have been stolen from a lich king. Nobody’s certain. They tell it lots of different ways. But they retired to this city and purchased an old fortress. Used to be on the border centuries ago before Vornheim expanded further and sprawled.”
"Then they decided to become art dealers and converted the building. They spent years accumulating rare works, artifacts and other items. Some legitimately, some … not so much. Their clients prefer discretion and know not to ask questions.”
“I worked for them for many years now, ahem, ‘acquiring’ various pieces. No questions asked. I showed up with something of interest, they paid me. It was a simple, and mutually beneficial arrangement. They paid good coin, and let me keep items that weren’t rare and unique enough for their tastes.”
“The Painter taught me some magic as well, thinking it would be useful for my ‘acquisitions’. Right he was about that."
Quinys summons a Mage Hand. The ghostly floating hand grabs the pitcher and refills her mug. She takes another drink.
“Anyway, we had a falling out some months ago. I won’t go into the details, because they’re rather petty, but they owe me a lot of gold. 20,000 at least. Probably more, if I have my way. And I want it. Plus a little something extra that we’ll consider interest owed."
“You need my help to get into that gallery. There are powerful magics protecting the contents. You go in there alone, you’ll never come out alive. I however, have a map, and I’m familiar with the painting you seek. I’ve seen it hundreds of times. I know how their security is set up. And they haven’t changed it since I left, trust me. They’re a prideful and overconfident pair.”
“There is one small problem. I can’t actually enter the gallery myself. Those spiteful bastards set up a protective ward to keep me out. But I can get you inside, and guide you once you’re there.”
“So they have a big event tomorrow night. Invitation-only. They like to hold these soirées for the nobility and wealthy of the city to rub elbows and garner favors. They’ve got some new setup with mirrors so that the entire place will be illuminated by moonlight.”
“I get you in, I lead some of you to the painting, you get it, plus my gold, and get out. Before the wizards take notice and disintegrate you."
“Then you have your painting and do whatever with it, I have my gold and skip town, the wizards get the message not to mess with me, and we all go on our happy ways.”
She looks around the table, grinning.
“Simple enough?"
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Damn, Q, it ain't even noon...
"That's grand, burglar. You exude valiance... When shall we begin?"
The furnace king could barely suffer the company of the small eclectic bundle before him, but couldn't help but show his enticed excitement. Tantalized in a feign hope, the muse muses...
Oh son of mine, one day I will make you EAT your curses! Steadfast, bride! I will find you again!
Oh Tranquility... ...Would you after all this even look at me again...
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The giant man shifts in his seat and drains his goblet, his metal armor clanking like a war drum. He moves thick arm and refills cup from pitcher, the warm, brown liquid swirling peaceably, like the tension in the room--calmness buttressed by promise of escalation.
He raises one eyebrow at Wan. "Eh? Do you look askance at the skulduggerous nature discussed in this early hour, or that we should enjoy strong drink to ease the discussion? I can have milk and pastries ordered, so you might join Madam Cuddles' Kid Kingdom, if that is more to your liking." The warcleric favors the warlock with a wry grin, enjoying his own joke.
The steely gaze loses its humor and turns to the small thief. "You know I've neither silver tongue nor skill in subtlety, but I pledge to enact your vengeance, if I find the plan to my liking.
There, deal is stuck on my end. Now, if you'll give over my boots, I'll be in more of a mind to listen to your details in earnest. Call it an act of good faith--one that will keep you here talking and drinking, and out of the Black Hole, where the High Inquisitor will have you sing a different song."
The wry smile sprouts anew. Though Torm has all the temperance for the humble, for the agents of Chaos, there is but small mercy practiced in the camps of the warpriests.
To Aterro, "If I give you back your boots, will they make you get another round any faster?"
Quinys waves her hand at him dismissively.
"Chop, chop! Perhaps I'll leave you a gift for your expedience!"
To Wan, "It has been a long day already. Do you have any idea how long it takes to arm a Glyph of Warding, let alone two?"
Quinys calls forth the Mage Hand to pour her another drink.
Finally, to Vehemence, "You'll like what I have in mind for you, fallen Muse. You can again feign being the royalty you obviously once were."
She reaches into her robe and produces three finely-folded pieces of vellum, each exquisitely stamped with a swirl of blood red and black wax, and lays them on the table in front of her, followed by a rolled up parchment.
Then reaching improbably deeper into her robe, she produces Aterro's Boots of Flying, and tosses them onto his chair.
"Today would be nice, Cleric! And don't forget the milk and pastries for your friend here!"
She reaches back into her robe and starts pulling out the various stolen items, tossing them to their respective owners.
Tenchi receives his blade then spends several minutes examining it from every angle imaginable before reaching some sort of mental criteria that it is indeed his blade. With a sort of calm grace, he sheathes his blade, takes a seat, and says "Very well. I would be willing to assist you in getting the monies you seek, if only so this painting would stop haunting my dreams. These shugenja, what is their specialty of magic? reading the I Ching? summoning the elements? calling the spirits of their ancestors to fight at their side?"
Looks like it didn't lose its luster; my aid is all yours. I know about the place you're talking about, and I think I can lead a getaway through the side streets. I am probably best suited moving the package out of the gallery and to the tower, we'd get there twice as quick.
Thratch grabs his silver raven, looking relieved. I still have a chance. And now I have some help.
He smiles at the woman and says, Ok. How do we start?
Lys takes her broom and in turn improbably slips it into a pouch at her waist. "Well, that's more like it... are those invitations to the soiree you mentioned, or some other tricks to get us inside?" Lys nods to the rolled up parchment.
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An unkempt halfelf barmaid is quick to hurry back to Quinys's side refilling her drink. That is, until she spots her stolen ring on the table. Her hand darts out, grabbing the ring and slipping it onto her finger. The barmaid reaches up pulling the dirt matted blonde wig off as her own gorgeous midnight locks cascade free down onto her shoulders. She shakes her head from side to side shaking her hair free of its confines as it falls perfectly into place to frame her slender face.
Her angelic voice sings across the room, "Sir, I hate to tell you, but I quit. You can keep today's wage as compensation for the short notice." Shedding the apron and whats left of her disguise, the unassuming bar made is transformed into a fetching gem of elven beauty, worthy of tale and song.
In a graceful glide, she takes a seat between the Brother's empty seat and Vehemence granting the fallen godling a charming smile as she nestles in beside him.
Although her comeliness evokes a second glance from him, the furnace king pays little mind to the newcomer of the table.
The allusion to a crown demanded all his attention.
"My regency remains absolute, short one; be not decieved. My kingdom is simply ...not of this world."
He tucks the elixir stolen back into the mysterious folds 'neath his cloak.
He'd be damned all the more if he allowed his ill-wanted employer having any more fuel to mock him with.
How fallen he had become indeed.
Quinys again waits for the rabble to die down when Ashlyn reveals herself and joins the group.
"Well played, Sorceress. Here I thought you'd been locked up. I'm glad you could join us."
To Vehemence,
"I'm sure your kingdom is very big and very important, but given that they aren't here helping you get this painting, I shall assume they are also very out of your reach. Here, you're just an adventurer on a quest who keeps trying my patience!"
Quinys unrolls the parchment, which is actually three sheets rolled up, and spreads them around the table. You see three similar diagrams that are floor plans for The Painter & Sage Emporium of Fine Arts, Curiosities and Rare Artifacts
"Gather around then, and let's have a look at these."
Diagram one - first floor and second floor catwalk
Diagram two - third floor private galleries and vault
Diagram three - fourth floor living quarters
She points at the first map.
"The main gallery is on the ground floor, with a smaller gallery on the catwalk surrounding it. That makes up the second floor. That eye in the middle of the floor is actually a rune the wizards had specially made. It'll detect any magic automatically, and also has some defenses. It can teleport everyone on the rune outside, or create a magical shield, or just disintegrate whatever's on the rune. The wizards also have a dimension door up to their living quarters that only they can use."
Pointing from the first map to the second,
"There's small stairs in the back corners of the catwalk leading to the third level, which is where the private gallery is housed and also the vault and offices. That probably won't be open during the exhibition, so it'll have guards posted and possibly some kinds of magic. Your painting is marked on the plan. It's in one of the private galleries. The vault is across the hall and heavily fortified. That's where my gold will be."
And finally pointing to the third map,
"Up another set of stairs is the wizards' private living quarters. I've never been inside them, so I don't know what's there. Rumor has it there's also a large cellar beneath the structure where they still do magical experiments, but I've never seen that either."
"I've got a good collection of magic items to help you get in and out of the building and avoid detection, at least for a short period."
"Let's go over these and decide who can do what. I'm thinking some of you will go in as guests with these invitations and be ready to cause a distraction if necessary, and the rest of you will infiltrate the third floor to get the goods and get out."