Perched atop the warehouse awning, Stephanie was rewarded with a breathtaking view as the maze like clutter of the docks gave way to an uninterrupted panorama of the docklands, the Gotham River and the rest of the city behind.

Behind her, the tenement houses of the Fort Clinton Slums say hunched in a messy warren, but behind them, the looming towers, palisades, and stone walls of the great halls of Midtown looked down on her like grim dark mountains. In the distance she could see the lonely, dark sillouette of the Merchant's Guild Tower, now mostly abandoned, the great worn "W" sigil of the Guild still visible in the moonlight on its face.

To the south, she could see almost all of Downtown. The island was lit up with all manner of torches, lamps and faerie fires, still bustling even at this time of night. Stretching before her into the Gotham River was pier 42, a huge long deep water dock set up to load and unload ocean faring cargo ships that stopped at this port. At the end of the pier was the Chraal, a squat, sturdy looking Holk, and she could clearly see at least two torches lit on its upper deck. In addition to the ship itself she could see the area around it's gangplank had at least one stack of crates nearby, and in the water behind it were tied several rowboats.

But perhaps most intriguingly of all, she realized that the pier was lined with a number of simple wooden cantilevered cranes, spaced out so that if the pier were full each could serve a different ship. One was hanging slightly above the Chraal, it's cargo platform empty and connected to the crane by four ropes at it's corners, which were attached to the crane's hook.

Squinting closely, she could make out four figures on the weather deck, and two guarding the gangplank, for a total of six.