The magical barrister’s wig tumbles from Deprimer’s head as he crashes onto his back in the rain-slick street before the Burgomaster’s mansion. Rain streams across his pale face as he blinks desperately, clinging to consciousness. Through blurring vision, he focuses on Dunlarr’s concerned face, and beyond the dwarf, Scholtz’s snarling features twisted with murderous intent. Deprimer’s eyes roll back, and his breathing becomes shallow and ragged.
The two conscripted guards flanking the mansion’s entrance shiver in their chain shirts, frozen by the sudden eruption of violence. One gulps audibly at the carnage unfolding before him, then sidles toward the nearest alley and bolts, abandoning his post. The second guard steels himself and rushes into the melee, dropping to his knees beside Deprimer. His hands come away slick with blood as he struggles to stop the flow gushing from the Burgomaster’s wounds. Failing, he hooks his arms under Deprimer’s shoulders and drags him away from the advancing Scholtz, leaving the barrister’s white wig floating in a muddy puddle.
Dunlarr throws himself flat as Scholtz’s blade whistles overhead. The dwarf scrambles to Deprimer’s side, pressing his hands against the worst of the wounds. Deprimer coughs once, blood flecking his lips, and his eyes flutter open. Scholtz advances with deliberate steps, raises his weapon, and drives it down into the eladrin. Deprimer’s eyes roll back again, his body going limp.
“No!” Dunlarr roars. He surges to his feet and swings his battleaxe in a savage arc, burying it deep into Scholtz’s side. The knight staggers. Two more of Deprimer’s men close in from either flank, forcing Scholtz to parry desperately as he gives ground.
From his vantage at the second-story window, Krelldutt watches the chaos below. His friend lies dying in the street, beyond his reach. The tortle draws an arrow from his quiver with steady hands and targets Krieger, who still stands dazed from the enchanted barrister’s wig. The arrows strike true, punching through armor. Krieger’s eyes begin to refocus as he shakes his head violently, clearing his senses.
Krelldutt nocks another arrow and releases. It catches Scholtz in the throat. The knight’s face registers shock as his hands fly to his neck. He stumbles backward, then one of Deprimer’s knights steps in and delivers the killing blow. Scholtz crumples to the cobblestones, still.
“No!” Krieger’s bellow echoes down the street as he watches his comrade fall. “Scholtz… no!” The captain backs away slowly, his eyes darting across the battlefield, taking stock of his remaining men. “To me!” he roars, then spins and sprints up the street.
One by one, his surviving knights disengage and follow their fleeing captain. One of the guards manages to revive Deprimer, who rolls onto his knees. Rain streams down his bloodied face as he calls, “Any of you who fight for me in capturing Krieger will receive a full pardon from the city of Vallaki!” Despite his wounds, his voice rings clear and strong through the street.
Several of the red knights and a guard hesitate mid-stride, then turn to surround Krieger. They close in with weapons raised. Krieger takes multiple wounds before he stops, chest heaving, and bellows back: “No! You will not let the great city of Vallaki fall into the hands of a fey! An elf! Not while I draw breath! ”
Every eye turns toward Deprimer. The men surrounding Krieger slowly pivot to stare at the kneeling eladrin, rain dripping from their helms. Several shift their weapons, pointing them instead at the Burgomaster.
