"I wanna fight the leonin," Deruque said to the team, before the cleric could even speak. 

"The goblins are weaker," Ruby pointed out.

"That's why I want the leonin," Deruque returned, as though stating the obvious.

"Rykard is probably the smarter option," Bardy conceded. "One target for all four of us."

"Especially since two of us aren't exactly fighters," Malakos added, regretting that he hadn't focused on reviewing more combative spells that morning. Causing a few gallons of water to appear wouldn't do as much in battle as he had planned for it to do in the clinic.

“We’ll take Rykard!” Deruque announced before there was any more room for debate. His blood ran hot with the thought of the challenge before them, and could not wait a moment longer to begin. 

The leonin captain grinned as he rose from his seat, the other occupants of the table slapping him on the back and cheering. He high-fived a few goblins on his way to the ring, opposite the challenging party. 

Deruque rolled his shoulders, grinning wildly and never removing his gaze from the target. Ruby’s hands hovered over the daggers she kept strapped to her thighs. Malakos gripped his mace uncertainly. Bardy pulled out his lute.

“You know what this fight needs?” He called out to the audience. They responded by shouting several indistinct suggestions. “That’s right!” He answered. “MOOD MUSIC!” 

And with that, he began to play. Deruque heard the music and surged forward, his strength bolstered by the bold tune Bardy was strumming. Drawing his rapier, he lunged at the Captain, slashing at his armor. The attack left a scratch, and the force behind it staggered the leonin for a moment, before he started pushing back. 

“Out of the way, Deruque!” Ruby called. The bronze dragonborn dodged out of the way as she released a barrage of lightning. It struck the Captain full in the face, but he seemed undeterred. He stormed toward Ruby.

Malakos leapt toward him, swinging his mace. It had been some years since he'd last used it–before he had entered the clergy officially–and his blow was…unimpressive. It glanced off the leonin's heavy leather gauntlets, and Malakos staggered back some with the rebound. He was successful, however, in drawing the leonin's attention away from Ruby. Rykard slashed at him, long claws ripping through his tunic and even piercing the armor beneath. With his other claw, he landed a blow on Deruque, a large gash appearing above the ranger's eye. 

Bardy tutted at his teammates. “Am I the only capable person on this team?” 

He switched his tune to something soft, with a lulling quality. Upon hearing it, Malakos felt the throbbing in his chest dull, then disappear. He pulled his hand away from the gash to find it had closed. 

“What the–?” He turned to the halfling. “You can heal?!” 

“I am a man of many talents,” the bard said, self-satisfactorily. 

“WHY HAVEN’T YOU BEEN HELPING ME IN THE CLINIC?!” 

“And deny the public of my true talents? For shame, sir! Now get back in there and give that mace another go.” 

“No,” Malakos said, sheathing the mace as Deruque struck at their opponent with his rapier, landing a decent mark but not stopping the leonin. “I think it’s time for some creativity.” 

He gripped his amulet and started to focus. 

Meanwhile, Ruby unsheathed a dagger in each hand and launched herself at the massive captain. He blocked with his gauntlets, but not before the ranger was able to land a blow. Rykard staggered back before regaining his fighter’s stance. 

Then, the fierce look on his face gave way to confusion and panic. His chest swelled, his mouth bulged, and then a torrent of water gushed from his jaws, spraying over a table of goblins nearby. He coughed, looking up at the opposing team. Malakos stood, his left hand outstretched, his right still gripping the amulet around his neck. 

“What did you just do…?” Bardy asked, dumbfounded. 

“I can summon up to ten gallons of water with this spell,” the cleric said. 

“I thought you needed an open container for that to work?” Ruby asked. 

“And what are lungs if not an open container?”

“You summoned ten gallons of water into his lungs?!” Bardy cried. 

“No, no–only one. I didn’t want to kill him. But it seems,” the tiefling grimaced, “I was too gentle.” 

Rykard was up again, charging at them with renewed (if a bit soggy) furor. He landed a hit on Ruby, but she was able to avoid most of the damage with a quick dodging maneuver. Without losing a bit of momentum, he turned and landed another strike at Deruque.

The bronze dragonborn grinned wickedly as a scarlet gash crossed his bicep only to disappear a second later at the sound of Bardy’s music. “That’s the last time you land a mark on me, old man,” he sneered. And with that, he opened his mouth as wide as he could. In the depths of his throat, tiny sparks started to fly, rapidly growing to a storm of bolts and bursting from his mouth to strike their target square in the chest. It sparked and streaked in jagged bolts across his entire body. Rykard’s knees buckled and he dropped to all fours. 

“Hold!” He rasped, holding up a massive hand. “I yield.” 

Silence fell for only a moment, before the crowd erupted in cheers and laughter. Malakos had just enough time to heal the commander before the team found themselves surrounded by their brothers in arms, ready to officially instate them as Red Cloaks. Dimir stood by for a moment, allowing the festivity with an amused smile on her face, before she held up a hand and called for order. She then beckoned to a tabaxi and an ogre nearby. They came forward with some red cloth in their arms as she addressed the party. 

“Congratulations, adventurers,” she announced. “You are now full-fledged members of the Red Cloak forces. And now it’s time for you to dress the part.” The tabaxi and the ogre stepped forward and distributed the red cloaks among the new members. Deruque fingered the material. It varied from member to member. Some bore blankets, like the one their cleric had originally used; some curtains; some bedsheets that were originally a lighter color, but had been carefully dyed red in a bath of crushed dragonsbreath petals. Standing together, the rebels  made a patchwork sea of scarlet determination and tenacity. The bronze dragonborn adjusted his cloak slightly and squared his shoulders to better display his new badge of honor–several old canvas bags, taken apart and stitched together, then dyed a deep crimson. 

It would become one of his proudest possessions. 

“Now that you’re outfitted,” Dimir said. “I need to know something.” She turned to Malakos, whose diplomatic work and general wrangling of the party had unwittingly marked him as the team leader. “Our forces are family. We fight at each others’ sides and have each others’ backs. Can you say the same for your group? Can you trust them?” 

“With my reputation? Never in a million years,” Malakos scoffed, earning a chuckle from the commander. Then he glanced back at the other three party members. “But…I would readily trust them with my life.” 

The commander nodded in approval. “Come with me. I have your first assignment.” 

The party left the central room filled with the sounds of scattered cheering and laughter, and followed the Commander to her office. 

“The king has apparently decided that your party has died in your search, as he has received no word from you; and he has assigned another…party to continue your efforts.”

The inflection she used when referring to her new pursuers indicated that she was not unfamiliar with them. 

“An acquaintance of yours?” Bardy prompted. 

She paused for a moment, looking slightly awkward. “My, ah, ex-fiancé, actually,” she explained. “He’s been tasked with finding me. Obviously, that is not within my interests for our movement, and so I would like to have him…distracted. You are to find him in Whispenshire and keep him from discovering us. Understood?”

The team affirmed her orders and, upon being dismissed, collected their things to return to Whispenshire. 

*****

The sun had been up for a few hours, but the air still had a pleasant morning chill to it as the party started on the path down the mountain. They rounded a bend in the road when Ruby stopped. 

“What’s that?” She asked, pointing ahead. 

The group followed her gaze, but couldn’t see much of note: only a bird fluttering away from them, a large plant sprouting in the middle of the path, and a rock that was covered in moss. 

“The…rock?” Bardy ventured. 

“No, the plant,” Ruby corrected. The party looked at the plant again. It seemed like a normal plant. 

“Ruby…it’s a plant,” Malakos explained. “In a forested mountainside. It’s…not unusual to find them here.”

“Not that kind of plant in this kind of area,” Ruby said, picking up a stick off of the path and approaching it. Bardy, too, grabbed a stick and followed her. “It’s not native to here, and it’s growing in the middle of a well-worn path.” She used her stick to lift the leaves and peer underneath. “Interesting,” she said, almost to herself. “No root system. Only this–” the party peered over her shoulder as she gently prodded what lay under the plant. “--gelatinous substance.” 

Bardy followed her lead and joined in the prodding. The plant twitched, then twitched again. It squirmed and wriggled as though attempting to escape its aggressors, and then finally, the entire plant uprooted, flying into the sky and landing on Deruque’s face with a loud, wet ‘squelch!’

“Engarde!” Deruque cried, his vision entirely obscured by the plant…thing. He drew his sword and nearly removed one of Malakos’s ears with a blind swing against his attacker. 

“Watch it!” Malakos snarled, ducking the frantic slashing of the bronze dragonborn. “Deruque, it’s not trying to hurt you–just put the sword away!” 

“What is that thing?” Bardy asked as Ruby pried it off of the other ranger’s face. 

“I don’t believe it,” she breathed. “It’s a verdure slime! They’re very rare all the way out here–much more common deep within the woods of elven settlements. Always wanted to see one, but could never get a permit to access their natural environment. What brings you all the way out here, little fella?” 

The slime looked up at her with big, watery eyes and made a wet, gurgling trill that was almost musical. 

“Goodness, did we give you a scare?” She brushed its waxy foliage from its face. “There, there. Listen–burying yourself in footpaths isn’t a great survival tactic. You’re lucky we happened upon you before someone less observant–and more heavily-laden–came along. If you’re going to burrow, do it off-path, okay?” She opened her arms so the slime would be able to hop away, but it didn’t. It just looked up at them, interest gleaming in its eyes. 

“Oh? Do you want to come with us?” She picked it up and placed it on her head. “How’s that? Comfy? Okay, then, let’s go!” 

The rest of the party looked at each other, but nobody volunteered to argue with her; so they continued down the mountain. 

“I think I’ll call you ‘Patch,’” Ruby said. 

“Alright,” Malakos said as the party reached the town gates (although ‘gates’ was a rather generous word for the crumbling stone wall that stood only three feet high, surrounding the town–more decorative than functional, with broken gaps big enough for even a horse to pass through). “Let’s find the target.”

“Duke Phillip,” Bardy reiterated the description from Lady Dimir. “Ruler of Lettinsburg, to the west.”

“What’s he look like?” Ruby asked. 

“Dunno,” Bardy shrugged. “Dimir just said we’d know him when we saw him.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Deruque asked. 

“We can always ask the locals,” Malakos suggested. “It worked well enough last time.” 

Before they could approach any of the locals, however, they heard a commotion around the corner. 

An old woman was being accosted by an ostentatiously dressed man, with an armored guard of two men following him. 

"Excuse me, madam, excuse me, but I am looking for a woman. She's a beautiful woman, loveliest in the entire world. Her hair is the deepest chocolate color and her skin the creamiest white you've ever seen, with cherry-red lips so plump you feel you simply must have a little nibble," he gave a nasally chuckle and licked his lips.

"Think we found our guy," Malakos said with a slight shudder.

"Is he looking for Dimir or dessert?" Bardy asked.

Unfortunately, the duke took that moment to look up, and he caught sight of the party.

"Excuse me!" He hailed them, leaving the old woman to scuttle off, grateful for the distraction. "Excuse me, my…motley group of adventurers. I am looking for a woman: the most beautiful in all the land–" 

Eager to cut his description off, Bardy thumbed at Malakos and said, "He's male, actually. Or so he claims."

The tiefling moved to thump the halfling on the head, but the duke only laughed.

"Oh ho, you cheeky devil! No," he drawled through a toothy smile. "I'm looking for my fiancée! She's the princess of this town. And beautiful, to boot! But wouldn't you know it, in the middle of the wedding ceremony, some ruffian thugs simply appeared out of nowhere and whisked her right off. Terribly distressing, don't you know–their smoke bombs scattered debris all over my finest suit; and what's more, the wedding's been postponed until the bride's returned! Not that I've been terribly put out about being the land's most eligible bachelor for a few days more, no…" he trailed off, casting what he clearly believed to be a charming grin at a young grocer woman across the street. 

She did not return it.

"Psst," Bardy hissed to the team while the duke continued his flirting efforts. "Let's send this guy down the well. I bet he'd be so disgusted by the stuff at the bottom that he'd run all the way back home to Lettinsburg."

"NO!" Malakos hissed back. "Have you forgotten what else is at the bottom of that well? We were sent to distract him, not help him!"

"Well, then how should we do that?" Ruby asked.

"Guys, hear me out," Deruque said. "What if we just kill him? Then we've distracted him permanently!"

"Not every problem can be solved by killing a noble, Deruque," Malakos whispered angrily. 

"I've yet to find one that can't," the ranger grumped. "Fine then, what's your idea?" 

Malakos thought for a moment. "A wild goose chase. We give him a false lead and keep him busy chasing a lie to get him away from Dimir."

"Got it," Bardy, Ruby, and Deruque said.

"Alright then–let's get to work." Malakos said and walked over to the duke.

Ruby walked off in the opposite direction.

Bardy grabbed Deruque and ran around the corner. "C'mon, Deruque, you heard the (supposed) man. Let's get to work."

"What are we doing?"

"Creating a lie that he's sure to chase," Bardy said, a mischievous glint in his eye as he reached into his bag. "Now. Can you run blindfolded?"