Heavy boots slapped against the squalid, filth-soaked walls of the slums. The owners of the boots, straight-faced and without a shred of emotion showing on their faces, steadfastly jogged forwards with lurching strides that still somehow held just a hint of rhythm and discipline. Each door the squadron of guards passed shut swiftly – Given the number of heroes and guards moving through this part of the city, even toothless, eyeless grandmothers could predict some sort of oncoming storm.

Right in the middle of the guards and partially obscured in their tight arrowhead formation, a familiar half-elf, along with a few rough-looking demons, followed in silence. A silence broken only by occasional whispered thoughts from the half-elf towards his breast pocket.

“Damnit damnit damnit. Philbert, we just don’t have enough information. As the heroes would say, ‘we’re flying blind here’. We think that Adrian’s heading towards the Blinder’s hideout, but we don’t know for sure. Your ‘lesser ones’ saw the trail of destruction leading that way, but they can’t get close enough to the man to confirm because he’d notice and blow them away. Or worse.” Tim muttered frantically, scratching away at his chin in thought. The tiny stream of blood from his broken skin flowing down his hand went unnoticed to both him and his entourage.

Philbert restlessly shifted around in Tim’s pocket. “Yes, yes. Or worse. We both agreed, agreed that there is nothing we can do about that. Still, the lesser ones, ones have seen him heading that way. That is a fact.”

Tim sighed and bitterly shook his head. “Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. Bert’s lads are too useful to let go. I should have moved them into the archives right after we killed Kevin. How fucking stupid can I get. But, if Santet can’t find Mavier in time and we run into Adrian… well, we’d be lucky to survive. Still, damn it all, Philbert. Bert depended on me, and damn but the dwarf was growing on me, and …” Tim’s eyes shot wide open, filled with panic. “The kid! Shit! She’s there.”

Philbert could only fall silent in response. It was quite obvious what would happen to anyone who crossed Adrian’s path tonight. Or any night, at that matter.

As the mostly silent crew of guards and wanted men crossed the empty and lightless market square in the slums, Tim began to mutter angrily to himself.

“Maybe I’m missing something. Again. Gotta think. Bert’s smart, and I did my best to teach him to plan ahead. If we’re lucky, he has a contingency plan, something that I failed to create myself. What would I do then…” Tim scratched his chin in thought once more, ignoring the stinging sensation as he buried himself in thought. “A diversion. I would sacrifice some guards, or anyone on my side who didn’t care about life all that much. That would buy some time for my key forces to escape, either through a window, back door, or some sort of underground hatch. After that, assuming the opponent is capable of rational thought, I would have to assume we would be followed. That means a delaying action is needed. I believe the hero Johnathan called it ‘guerilla warfare’. We prioritize the people most important to the plan and focus on escaping.”

In his pocket, Philbert squeaked in agreement and chomped down on a few spare crumbs.

“In that case, our own actions may end up assisting Bert, depending on how far along that list they are on when we arrive. The guards can distract Adrian, since at this point I’d take preserving the life’s of my human helpers over a few unthinking bodies. Maybe…” Tim glanced towards his planning companion in his pocket. “Maybe we can take this as an opportunity in disguise. If Mavier arrives in time, he, Dimitre, and Santet can, as the late hero Kevin would put it, ‘gank the shit out of him’. And if we add up our other assets… Philbert, what’s the status of the rat king? Would he be able to assist us if it comes to blows?”

Philbert fell silent in contemplation for a few seconds, staring out of Tim’s pocket as they followed an ever-thickening trail of bodies with stakes forced down their throats.

“I have asked, and he has answered. My friend, my good friend, can provide some assistance if it is needed. Though, it will be limited.”

Tim nodded. Some was better than nothing. However… “Limited, you say? The way you phrase it… makes me wonder if there is a possibility for… unlimited support?”

“Yes, there is, is. Come close, my friend. My good friend. After all, one only has to ask in order to receive.”

Tim leaned his head down, his eyebrow cocking in interest as Philbert whispered his answer softly in his ear.

It was not until the group was a block away from the Blinder’s hideout that Tim raised his head with a thoughtful look spread across his face.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Rancid mud exploded, splattering everything in a five-foot radius every time his boots came down on the floor of the sewers. Loud glorping splashes echoed against the sturdy stone walls of the claustrophobic tunnels, coming together to form a disgusting symphony. He tried to increase his cadence hearing the occasional clatter of sword on dagger, crossbow bolt on stone, and sloshing of bodies sinking into the thick layers of stinking mud, but his lungs and legs were stinging and already his own saliva threatened to choke him.

Still, Tanlin ran. He ran as he did his best to ignore the unnatural feeling of the swift breeze on the back of his neck.

He ran as he tried his hardest to keep up an easygoing smile to soothe the worries of the kid bundled against his chest, to keep the sweet lie together that it was just a rowdy game of tag with a bunch of drunk uncles.

He ran as he felt cursed his involuntary flinches after each war cry fell silent, after each weapon clattered against a wall for the final time.

He ran as he held back tears, not for the gangsters they used to be, but for the brothers they had become, all under the darkest of circumstances. One day they had been disgusting lowlifes, robbing the elderly, knifing their opposition, and fighting openly with the city guard. And then that… madman had been brought in by the old boss. Tanlin still lost sleep over what he had seen that halfie do to Wavey. Still, there was nothing quite like a common oppressor to bond men together. Then, some weeks after that (he had never been good with numbers), Bert and the halfie introduced someone who made even the most black hearted gangster in the Blinders show a goofy smile. This orphan, who they couldn’t even get a name out of.

Their priorities had changed almost overnight. It was unanimous, without even needing discussion, or even words in between the gangsters – no, they were brothers now. Not gangsters. Tanlin could hardly believe it. Even the gnome twins, who he had seen gouge the eyes out of men with their own hands in barfights, stocked their pockets with crudely fashioned iron hairpins. ‘Just in case’, they had implied after a lot of miming. Really, writing would have been faster, but that would require someone knowing how to read or write within their circle of acquaintances and friends.

The mud from his frenzied run rained against his arms, shocking him with the cold and the smell. Yes. That was right. He had a mission. Well, not him exactly. Bert had told his brothers that whoever was closest to the child was to pick her up and run. To run through the sewers, lose the attacker, and meet up at one of the pre-set spots. The archives, if possible. Tanlin hadn’t been there personally yet, but if Bert was to be believed, the stronghold of their boss would likely be safer than most other places in the city. But, that wasn’t quite what Tanlin was worried about. It was the madman of a hero who was the pursuer. Bert had given them all specific instructions if it was that hero. The soldiers and the cleric hero accepted surrenders. Sure, the ones who got captured would get some beatings and be thrown in jail, but that was better than death, and they certainly would never harm the little girl.

In the current situation, however, the opposite was guaranteed.

Every man, orc, dwarf, gnome, and in-between knew that for a fact. So, Tanlin ran.

Another piteous scream of pain and horror rattled against the stone behind him. Only now, it was closer. The unnatural wind tickling his neck picked up in speed, and Tanlin held back shudders as the groaning sound of wind carving deep gouges through stone wafted up into his ears.

Tanlin ran, picking up the pace and drawing from reserves he never knew he had. The pain in his lungs was unbearable now, turning from a deep ache to a sharp stabbing near his heart with every breath. But he kept on. If he could just get the kid to their secret stash and stow away on a caravan out of the city. The Blinders had been saving up ever since the kid was brought to them. They had more than enough to get her out, to get her anywhere in the continent. To get her a new family, one that wasn’t picky about her origins. To get her an education, something that he and his brothers never had a chance at getting.

But that was only if the duo made it in time.

Tanlin’s heaving breaths almost drowned out the screams of the last of his brothers who had stayed behind to slow the hero. It was Glenson. As expected of the massive half-orc, he had lasted far longer than most of the others.

“Easy now, kiddo, we’re almost there!” Tanlin hastily muttered towards his arms, not even noticing the cracks of fear in his voice. “Just a minute or two longer, and we get to the winner’s circle! If we get there before that other uncle who’s chasing us, we’ll win the game!”

A small impact hitting his left shoulder barely registered at the back of his mind as he passed a grate with moonlight billowing through it. He ignored it, because nothing mattered, only escaping, but the small figure in his arms frantically tapped his scarred chin. He looked down, and a set of horrified eyes looked towards his shoulder blade.

Tanlin’s eyes widened as he glanced behind himself, the elf no longer able to spare the attention to keep the fear out of his expression. Stuck deep through his shoulder was a leaf-bladed knife.

“Ah, here we go, I just found me another runner.” Adrian sneered as he sauntered out of the darkness, tossing another leaf-bladed knife in one hand while holding the severed hand of a half-orc in the other.