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Red Tide encampment, 75 miles from the Nether City Walls.

Serian Crull stood in his tent. Well... "stood" isn't quite the word that described it; "spookily levitated" would be much more accurate. His gaunt frame hunched over a hand-drawn diagram of his plan, mapping out the enter and exit point of his digging operations. Normally, he would be very loathe to even attempt giving his minions any tool more advanced than a two-pronged stick, however, these were special circumstances. Each of the raiding demons would require a very sturdy shovel, for the purpose of both digging through the packed earth around the city walls and not having his pawns break them. As well, they would need weapons, because when it comes to ripping through flesh and bone, shovels would not help too much.

"Morenkai," Serian mentally messaged to one of his Court, "What is the status on your survey?"

Promptly, he recieved a reply, "We have indicated places of relatively loose ground, and digging will commence on your orders. What is your command?"

Serian thought carefully of a reply, and stated, "Morenkai, you shall take a team of 20 and raid the main guard station, drawing security to a more centralized location. Skarren, you shall raid the Smithys with 10 others and secure any and all weapons available. Rommel, you shall be responsible for stirring up strife in the slums with your team of 15. Erkain, you shall take 10 and infiltrate the prison, with the hopes of causing a riot within. All who I have not named, you will accompany me and the remaining 35 in frontal siege teams. Dismissed."

Promptly, shouted orders filled the air, and small, grinning, impish demons, accompanied by larger, muscular ones, promptly swarmed about, picking up equipment and howling madly at the possibility of spilt blood. As his pawns scrambled about, Serian chuckled madly under his soft, whistling breath.