Luckily it seemed their combined skills killed it, but Malcador was still shaken. The power he had displayed was unfamiliar, and the spells esoteric. Serphia's safety was nice, if unexpected. Certainly she appeared a bit more banged up than when last he saw her, but he would have imagined a dark elf to be the primary target of any enemy that came across her. Then again, she could either be lucky or the devils could feel some sort of small kinship with her. Though admittedly she was a far more attractive sort of evil than they. 

He blanched when her eyes cut to him, but at the tongue lashing he grew defensive. "I [i]AM[/i] a coward, and I'm an alive coward as well. Pardon me for keeping myself in one piece before I found my way back to you." He responded, brushing himself off and strapping the tome's leather cords to his belt. Which was a redundant, as he was then ordered to strip and change into the black leather and iron of the attackers. He could have told her to stuff it where Deneir couldn't find it, but she had a point. It was safer if he was dressed like one of them. 

"Okay," The handsome man breathed, acquiescing. He unbuckled his belt and stepped tentatively over the dead devil. Its blood smelled of sulphur and brass, rather than the normal metallic iron scent of human blood. He would have to consider that later. Malcador stripped himself of his robes and cloak, rolling them up and shoving them in his small leather sack. He still bore breeches, but his upper body was lean, yet toned. He kept himself maintained for nothing if not vanity, with fair, cream colored skin. He donned the armor as quickly as he could, but nearly protested to put the helm on before he forced himself to do so. He didn't see any distinguishing marks on the corpses of the men he found, but he did not want to risk it. 

He opened the visor, however, and examined the ring he caught. He was lucky enough to have seen it coming his way. "Hrmmm, no, I don't recognize it. Though I am not too familiar with the Moonsea's aristocracy. It'll come in handy, however." He assured her, hoping he was right. Knowledge was still something to get paid for, if nothing else. If they found out who it belonged to, a wealthy cousin might give them a reward for the return of the item and news of their family member's demise. 

"Alright, I think I'm ready to get the hells out of here, if you are." He told her, dropping his visor and pocketing the ring. He only had a few spells with the limited time he was able to study the tome, but if push came to shove, he could at least perform a few tricks. Arlocke crawled up Serphia's leg and wiggled his thorax as if to goad them on. 

The violence outside could only last so long. It was best they left while it was still going, or the chances of them being spotted was raised significantly when there were no other distractions. Or worse: They were actively looking for those who sought to escape. Mystra be praised, there was still some commotion on the street, so that had to count for something.