Tanis volunteers for one of the three hiding spots, nodding fatalistically.  Choosing the one closest to where the disembarkation point is likely to be.

"Seems a decent plan.  I'm best up close and personal.  Like a close shave.  Tis what Hairless Hal in the Watch always used to prefer, so clean shaven.  And damn if he didn't look fine and proper.  Lying there in a pool of blood after a stray hiccup made him slice himself in the throat with his razor."

He looks to Thamul and especially to Zifini.  "One day, we take out the Kraken-feeding lighthouse priest.  But I think not today, nor tomorrow, agreed?"

"Alright, focus on the task at hand it is" Thamul agrees. He will join Tanis at the closest spot the next night.

"I'll take that spot," Zifni replies to Selene's suggestion and nods toward a pile of barrels and netting a little further back.

He doesn't appear to have any reply for Tanis.

Selene watches as the others nod in quiet agreement, moving to mark out the hiding places she suggested, crates, coils of netting, rusted crab traps made jagged with salt and time. She sees them glance her way for final confirmation, trusting her lead. That trust settles cold and sudden in her chest.

For a moment, the salt wind catches in her throat.

Gods, what if this goes wrong.
The thought is sharp.
Unwelcome.
But there.

If the crossbowman misses.
If the timing falters.
If the drow don’t step where she needs them to.

Her mouth feels dry.

They’ve chosen her plan.

She presses her palm briefly against her side, the small weight of the dagger beneath. She draws a breath, lets it steady her.

Then she lifts her chin, smoothing the hesitation from her face like a veil.

"I’ll take the boat," she says, with a nod toward one of the lanternless ships, its hull shifting gently with the harbor’s rhythm. "Low profile. Good line of sight."

Her gaze sweeps across the group once more, this time slower. The positions are chosen. The routes considered. No more planning. 

"We're set."

She turns toward the gangplank without waiting, her cloak fluttering behind her as she makes her way off the dock, back toward the Bleeding Rose.

Warrick looks at the others, "Well I suppose I could take up a position in the back with my range keeper." He patts his crossbow, he was never that great with it, but his farther insisted he learned some forms of self preservation. Warrick was much more thankful for those lessons now, if only he would have put a bit more effort in when he could. "So it's settled then? Time for drinks and quarters?"

"Sounds like a plan, any one up for some axe throwing back at the Bleeding Rose?" Thamul asks with a grin

"Let's get back," Zifni agrees with a nod. He carefully surveys the dock area a final time before preparing to head back to the inn they call 'home'.

He places a hand on his side where the darkling had wounded him. He won't fall so easily next time. Next time he'll fight harder.