The bolt in his side sent Nicolai reeling, but he had a feeling that this was a warning. He stopped to briefly stem the bleeding, and hoped that he wouldn’t lose these crossbow men in the crowd.
Four of them, now. Well, the companions really only needed one to lead them onward. Drawing a dagger into her hand, she murmurred to the three around her, “Keep the chase going. Don’t stop to give fight if any fall behind…” Of course, if they all kept running, that’d just make them easier to follow. “They’ll lead us to their hole, and then we’ll destroy them.” Breathing hard, she sprinted onward and raced past Nicolai.
Feldard wasn’t all that sure of the Elf’s reasoning but there really wasn’t time to debate the issue while still chasing the four. He didn’t slow up or stopping as he came apon Nicolai, figuring the Cleric would see to the rogue. He thundered on after the crossbow men.
Maruc rounded the corner after the dwarf and saw the thief couching a wound. Panting the cleric asked, “Lets look at that, hmm you’ll live for the moment. Try not to catch any more though. I off to make sure the dwarf doesn’t become a pincushion.” Maruc grinned. “Stay safe!” he pounded down the street after the others.
Miklos took a view from the end of the street as he spying the retreating backs of the crossbowmen. He was on the heels of the charging dwarf and thought that the only way to catch these guys would be a ranged attack, that meant magic. He needed to keep them in sight, and range long enough to get the spell off. He had no time to play it safe if he was going to catch them so he launched into a dead sprint to the corner they had dissappeared around. Caution not entirely leaving him he glanced briefly around it to make sure he wouldn’t end up like Nicolai.
They rounded another corner. The new street was lined with booths. As the last fleeing bowman passed by one of the tents, he grabbed one of the poles, pulling the fabric down. The booth collapsed in a billowing heap that temporarily blocked the path.
An angry vendor emerged from the folds of tentcloth, screaming curses. “By Halav’s Beard, who has ruined my tent?!”