Miscalculation

The Grinning Prince knew the names of the two who seemed to be in charge of their little expedition... Malek and Yrmus.  The two fighters he simply labeled Thing #1 and Thing #2 since they never spoke but merely lurked in the background... swords at the ready.

At this moment, he, Malek, Yrmus, and the Things along with the captain of the guard, made a wide circle around a hideous yet darkly humorous sight.  Three men, one ancient and two middle-aged, were stuck in the ground near the hill of the entrance... their top halves above ground, their bottom halves seemingly melded into the bedrock under the shallow topsoil.  All three faces wore an expression of shock mixed with deadly realization.

"I wonder if that actually hurt," he finally said.

Malek shot him a look which curtailed any further queries.  The Prince stifled a giggle and motioned for the captain to follow him as he ambled off.

Yrmus watched them leave and then mumbled to Malek, "I hope you have a plan B."

"Of course, I don't have a plan B," Malek hissed. "I never imagined a lich would be involved.  This was supposed to be a simple track down and elimination of a target, and now it's turned into a first rate goat fuck."

"And that's your employer," Yrmus pointed at the white haired old man.

"That's my employer.  I'm not sure if he let anyone else in on the plan.  However, if there's any chance of receiving my pay, then I'll have to go through with the assignment.  Last time I checked, you're pretty much obligated to follow along."

Yrmus sighed and turned to gaze at the back of the Prince some 100 feet away. "Well, he seems bent on going back and finding his friends.  I see no reason not to help them," he turned and smiled to Malek.  "After all, if they became the masters here, why can't we?"