Miklos folded his arms and smiled. Somewhat nonchalantly he turned to his clerical comrade and his jaw dropped. An arrow had sprouted from his shoulder. “Err Maruc, you’ve been shot.” he said helpfully.
The cleric was ignoring him. Miklos looked beyond him at the melee on the boat. “Oh.” He considered the last of his arsenal of spells. Web was a spell he had not tried in anger and was a little indiscrimenate. Levitate? No.
It didn’t matter, Maruc was already on the problem. He reached down into the pile of equipment at his feet and free’d his staff. He watched the cleric’s back in case any of the ambushers chose to board their end of the boat.
Maruc gritted his teeth biting back the throbbing pain. He started at the cry of one of the other passengers. It took a second to realize that the man pulling his sword out of the collapsing victim wasn’t wet. He was a crewman. Treason! Maruc barked a word of power as the man launched himself at the exposed back of the dwarf. “Sleep!”
The attacker turned to the cleric with a visage of total derangement. Shaking off any lingering effects of the spell, the man recklessly shot straight for the cleric, charging forth like a rabid animal.
Feldard had his attention on the attackers boarding, so did not notice when the human Roklov was felled from behind. Nor was he aware of his own peril. The dwarf hefted his battle-axe and swung it in a large arc towards the boarding ambushers.
“Beloc!”, Stephan barked, cursing in Traladaran, seeing the futility of enlisting the oarsmen. Using the long oar in hand one last time, he lunged to use it to trip one of the robbers coming up on Roklov’s back.
Too late! Roklov suffered a grievous blow but the oar did help the dwarf. By luck, Stephan somehow wedged the wooden shaft at shin height. It was enough to trip one robber, another to stumble and a third to pause to look down…a fatal mistake. The dwarf’s axe swung true, making quick work of those tripped or delayed.
Only two of the group of boarders successfully made it on board, leaving the defenders of the riverboat with only three combatants to subdue. Yet, their opponents fought with no hesitation—fanatics ready to fight until the end.
* * * * *
Hasan summoned his magic missile and released it at the remaining archer, the man who now was meticulously destroying his erstwhile companions. While he had little sympathy for the now-slumbering attackers, Hasan knew he had to stop this loathsome action.
The man was more heavily armored than the others. The missile raced into him and its shock sent the man back a few paces, but he recovered. He was of sturdy stock, this one. Faced with an elf, he dropped his bow, then grabbed a shield that lay nearby and ran toward Hasan, drawing his sword.