Cloaks

Chapter 7: Life and Death

The party followed Duke Phillip's retinue for a few miles, keeping him in sight, but staying far enough back that his retinue never caught sight of them.

Unfortunately, his voice carried well enough that they could hear him for the entire trek.

"Maybe we should just end him now and be done with it," Bardy grumbled, as the Duke stuck one pale, hairy leg out of his palanquin and asked the nearest guard if a bug bite looked infected.

"Six guards," Malakos reminded him. "We're here to stop Keuren, Tadwick, and Gipton from trying to take them on, not get slaughtered ourselves."

"No, we're here to team up with Keuren, Tadwick, and Gipton and do the slaughtering ourselves," Deruque corrected.

"Think of the peasantry, Malakos," Bardy simpered.

"If...if there is to be an assassination," Malakos said, slowly. "We will be very careful to only kill the one guilty. Guards generally operate only under orders. Try to spare them."

"In my experience," Deruque scoffed, "anyone that gets too close to rot starts getting a little rotted themselves."

Before Malakos had time to rebut, a familiar voice hissed at them from the trees.

"Oi," a large orc came into view. "Wot're you lot doing out 'ere? I fought you were meant to be distracting some rich lump?"

"Oh Keuren, I'm so glad we found you first! That's Duke Phillip over there—we wanted to warn you, before you tried to...uh....collect from him. As you can see, he has six--"

"Oh, that's a great idea!" Keuren breathed, staring at the troupe ahead of them. "I bet they're loaded!"

"Woah, okay, yes, probably, but that's a lot of guards—don't you think it's a bit..."

"We'll take three, you take three, okay?" Ruby said.

"RUBY!" Malakos scolded.

"Right then, I'll let the others know," Keuren nodded. "They're hiding behind that overturned cart."

"Now hold on--!" Malakos said, but Keuren was already gone.

The tiefling let out an exasperated growl. "Okay, fine. Fine. Let there be bloodshed. But listen up—we kill only Duke Phillip. Understood? Where's Deruque?!"

The bronze dragonborn was thirty feet ahead of them along the path. As soon as he had heard that regicide was on the table, he had started sprinting forward, determined to land the first blow.

Ruby saw him moving and raced forward to beat him. Bardy and Malakos looked at each other and started running after them.

"Guys!" Malakos raced after them, gasping for air. "Guys, wait! Don't get too far—I can't heal you if you're too far!" He had been doing a lot more running in his plate mail today than was reasonable, in his mind. The others were putting even more distance between him and them. Even Bardy outstripped him with ease. (Although, not before casting him a particularly cheeky grin, first.) The tiefling growled and kept plowing forward.

By this time, Deruque had gotten in range of the troops, who turned and drew their swords. In a practiced motion, the dragonborn pulled his longbow from his bag and loaded it. He let his arrow fly into one of the guards carrying the palanquin, causing him to fall to the ground.

Somewhere behind him, Malakos was screeching something in either Infernal or unintelligible Common. Didn't matter—Deruque wasn't listening anyway.

The other three carriers teetered, before hastily placing the palanquin on the ground to draw their swords. The two guards who had been in front moved to draw their own crossbows, but suddenly found themselves grappled by two goblins, who had sprung from the cart, and Keuren, who had emerged from the surrounding trees.