Hasan judged the distance between the himself and the charging man. It would be difficult for him to get an additional spell off, but it was a risk worth taking. Hasan summoned another magical dart, hoping to direct it at his attacker before being set upon. The missile streaked into the man, slowing him down, but not stopping him. Hasan had just enough time to pull his sword from its scabbard as their swords met. The elf caught a glancing blow. It was barely a scratch, but it was enough to tell him that this would not be an easy fight.
* * * * *
Maruc leapt forth with equal single-mindedness of purpose. There was an evil burning light in mans eyes as he swung viscous and swift stokes with his blade. Once, twice the blade danced passed Maruc’s guard. Normally plate-clad, the priest would not be bothered but he felt the warm wet of flowing blood from fresh cuts down his side. The fight became more desperate he the gleam of victory darkened the man’s face. Maruc saw an opening a swung wildly, but his swing was aided by the unpredictable rocking of the boat and landed powerfully on the madman who fought on despite.
To be honest, Miklos was starting to feel a little embarrassed. Maruc was fighting for all his worth and Miklos was just standing there watching his friend being cut to pieces. He looked down at his staff then slowly up to the man. He hadn’t even been scratched by the priest, and Miklos didn’t like the look on his face. It was a sneer, he hated it. It needed to be removed.
For the first time since the fight with the panthers at the feet of the Bone Guardian, he clasped the end of his staff with both hands and stepped to the flank of the melee. He screamed at the top of his voice and squeezing his eyes shut he swung the staff round with a giant two-handed arc so fast he swore that he heard the end whistle with speed.
It connected with something solid and unyielding almost jarring the staff out of his hands. He opened his eyes to see what he had hit…
The man lay dead before the mage, his skull crushed from a perfect blow.
Feldard, engaged the boarders full out. Their assault was frenzied and amateurish. Metal clanged against metal as he used his axe to block blow after blow. The manner in which these men fought was fanatical. It stirred a most similar aggression within the dwarf.
With a bellow Feldard, dropped his defense and went on the offensive. He backed a step or two then charged full out toward the attacker before him. He swung his axe up and over his left shoulder, and swung around full circle, coming down on his right. The impact was jarring.
Stephan recognized the signs of battle rage in the attackers. But there was something more here. Something sinister. He saw the dwarf go into an effective rage and felt the familiar surge of battle frenzy–the dwarf almost emanated it. With this veins pumping, Stephan found something to step up on and leaped from a higher vantage to come down on the crazed assailant heading toward the magician.
“Nocvamdiz!”, he shouted in the old tongue as his blade fell towards its target.
With no armor to protect them, the ambushers were no match, and were all killed in quick fashion. Whoever they were, despite their numbers, they had been unprepared to face such a formidable group.
* * * * *
The battle was over, and Hasan was victorious. Though the melee had not been quick, Hasan was the faster of the two, and was able to avoid any further wounds at the hands of the cold-blooded killer. He would have liked to have taken the man alive, but he refused to surrender. And, given the high-pitched ferocity of the man’s attack, the elf had little choice but to pull no punches.