Dripping hunched humanoids pulled themselves over the railings. Joe's first thought was giant piranhas on legs. Massive bulbous yellow eyes glowered from under domed brows. As creepy as their alien eyes were, they were not nearly as horrifying as the rows of jagged teeth erupting from their underbite-shaped mouths.
The seven-foot-tall creatures only wore belts or bandoleers to which blades or nets were attached. Strapped across their back were huge spears. These were brought to bear the moment their webbed feet hit the deck.
Azbekt must either have had a danger sense skill or read the shock on Joe’s face. In one fluid motion, he stepped back towards the keg he had been sitting on, scooped up his axe, and spun, driving the weapon deep into the side of the monster looming behind him. The blade hissed as it burnt the flesh around the axehead. The creature shrieked in a reverberating scream before trying to bat the paladin away. As its claw came down, the warrior's shield magically manifested on his arm, blocking the blow.
Joe snapped out of his surprise and targeted another of the piranha brutes just as it was about to swing its leg over the railing. “Deaden Flesh!” he yelled, targeting the hand that was holding the rail and then immediately winced in embarrassment. “I gotta stop doing that,” he muttered to himself. Embarrassing or not, the spell did just what he intended it to do. Before the creature could plant a foot on the deck, its grasp went numb and the monster tumbled backward into the sea.
Joe saw another attempting to board. As he targeted this one’s grip, he looked to see what they actually were.
Ripjaw Gartroll: Level 13: Troll: Soldier: Strength: 260/260
Before he finished casting his spell, a net flew through the air. Knotted cords of seaweed entangled half a dozen passengers a few feet to his right. The troll yanked the rope attached to the mesh, sweeping the captives off their feet. Joe could hear the refugees smacking onto the boards before they started screaming. As the net slid across the deck Joe realized this was a hunting party, and these people were the prey. He retargeted the spell he was casting, releasing it at the net hunter’s hands.
The scaled monstrosity must have partially resisted the [Deaden Flesh]. It looked puzzled at one hand, but the other one still held tightly to the rope. Pulling out the goblin knife, Joe slashed it across the taut line. The oversharpened blade sliced through the braided kelp tether almost as if it wasn’t even there. As soon as the rope went slack, the brute ignored its deadened hand and let out a screeching growl at Joe. It grabbed its spear in its good fist while flexing feeling back into its senseless digits.
The spears were clearly meant for thrusting, so Joe was not ready for the marauder to swing the shaft in a long arc. The razor-sharp spearhead slashed through an inch of his abdomen before Joe even registered the oncoming attack. The sickening sensation of his organs trying to pour out through his sliced flesh overwhelmed Joe. He clapped a palm to his stomach, both to hold in his guts, as well as to pour healing into the wound. This left him unprepared for the lancing thrust that drove the spear into his chest. The shaft passed right through his lung, out his back, and into the deck, leaving Joe standing but pinned in place.
A Ripjaw Gartroll has critically injured you. You have lost 81% of your Hit Points.
You have resisted being incapacitated by traumatic damage.
Your skill [Stun Block] has increased to rank 1.
The impaled healer watched the approaching gartroll flex open his taloned fingers in preparation for a killing blow. Even pouring on the healing, Joe knew he would not survive having his head slashed off. He watched the arm draw back but there was nothing he could do to avoid the blow. He could barely get his body to function, let alone intercept the creature’s attack.
Before the raider's talons reached him, Joe heard a voice like the howl of a storm cry out, “Leave the zephyr alone!”
A braided cord whipped around the scaly wrist and Hah’roo bound through the air delivering a devastating kick to the beast’s eye. As she came down, she looped the rope through a line of spiked fins that ran over the troll’s head and then hooked her boot heel onto the line. Stunned by the kick and then overbalanced by the force of her weight driving down on the rope, the troll lost its footing and spun face-first onto the deck.
She danced below an attack from another one of the massive spears while launching the other end of her weapon straight at that creature's head. The rope terminated in a sharp metallic weight. The heavy prism crunched deeply into the troll's temple. She spun her cord off the first troll’s wrist, allowing her to move away from more of the towering brutes that lurched after her. Whirling and weaving between spear thrusts and grasping claws, Hah’roo evaded attack after attack. Every now and then the weighted line would lash out, stunning or drawing blood. Her counterattacks waned as the number of marauders she faced increased.
Joe took a shallow breath, given he only had one functional lung at that moment, and cast [Deaden Flesh] on the legs of one of the trolls in the middle of the scrum trying to pin Hah’roo down. The target failed to resist the spell and toppled over, taking out two more of his scaly allies, who in turn tripped one more.
Hah’roo noticed and replied with a voice that sounded more tinged with excitement than fear. “Nice move, Healer, but stop worrying about me. Take care of yourself. I will be able to attack again once I don’t have to cover you anymore.”
She threw Joe an exultant look as if she were having the time of her life amidst the raking claws and plunging spears. There was a sense of joy radiating from her flowing evasions. Her spinning limbs and spiraling weapon formed an almost hypnotic dance. Joe’s oxygen-starved brain became enthralled watching her, until a spray of briny green blood splashed him in the face. Joe looked over to see Yago hammering his warclub down a second time on the troll who had impaled him, painting him in even more gore.
“Jiminy Pete, boyo. How is you still alive?” Wakley asked, appearing at his side. Joe tried to answer but his words just came out as a wheeze. The sailor shrugged at the unintelligible sound and asked, “What do we do?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Joe took as deep a breath as he possibly could and was able to croak a single word. “out…”
“Out it is. Yago, can ye get the spear outta the deck? Parla an I will hold him and yer gonna pull it the rest o the way through.”
The large aresa handed his club to one of the people climbing out of the slashed netting and wrapped a hairy hand around the spear shaft.
“Bend at the waist when I pull it out, Healer,” the barbarian commanded. “Ready?”
Lacking a voice, Joe could only nod. Yago pulled the spear up, taking out a chunk of the deck along with the point, and then dragged the spear the rest of the way through his chest. A gout of blood sprayed the big man’s legs, but Joe’s magic rapidly began to stop the bleeding and close the open hole. He kept pouring on the healing, trying to rebuild his respiratory system. Thanks to Hah’roo’s charm, Joe didn’t think he could use [Healing Touch] fast enough to drain his mana dry. The pain, on the other hand, was almost too much to bear. His chest was going to be one big ball of agony for a while even if he reached full health. His head swam as his wound knitted closed.
He looked up in time to see a hulking scaled form stabbing at Parla standing next to him.
Thankfully, Yago saw it as well. The aresian warrior jammed his arm into the path of the oncoming spear. Though he deflected it enough to prevent it from plunging through his wife, the spearhead cut a deep furrow down her side. Joe grabbed at her as she fell but only managed to brush his fingers against her skin. It was enough for a quick shot of healing.
Wakely took a large swig of his moonshine whiskey and sprayed it into the gartroll’s face. He stepped back and snapped his fingers, pointing his arm at the creature. A small flicker of flame jumped off his thumb and onto the dripping liquor, causing the brute’s head to erupt in flames.
Yago scooped up his club and began battering the screaming troll.
Looking across the deck, Joe could see wounded everywhere. There were dozens of cut nets. The sailors must have done as he did, slashing open the trapping coils, but they too had paid for foiling the hunter’s plans. Joe infused Parla with one more wave of health before using his talisman to jump to a sailor lying in a huge pool of his own blood. He landed harder than he meant to, still unused to teleporting across moving surfaces. He could feel his severed ribs grinding around his chest, causing black spots to fill his vision. He reached out and healed the moment he felt flesh.
You have restored 53% of Elmar Soly’s lost health. His current health is at 54%.
“That was close,” Joe wheezed with a lung that was still far from recovered. He scanned the battle and saw an elven woman frozen in terror as a gartroll charged at her. He reached out with one of his newer skills.
You have removed the Cowering affliction from Jarenna Daskcalla.
Your skill [Purge] has increased to rank 1.
Immediately the elf seemed to shake off her fear and dart back to where a mass of sailors and passengers were holding the brutes back with axes, clubs, and blades. Joe turned away when she was safe, looking for anyone else who might need him.
A second later he used the talisman to jump again, this time landing between two wounded. He put a hand on each and foolishly tried to heal both at the same time, causing his signature spell to fail. “Damn it!” he cursed hoarsely, before alternating the effect between the pair. He had to pour another heal into himself just to catch his breath. As he did, he looked across the deck spotting more fighting and more fallen.
His eyes landed on Azbekt. The paladin was surrounded by wriggling green limbs and a wall of twitching bodies. Covered from head to toe in green gore, the dwarf smashed his heavy axe into foe after foe. He must have had some taunting aura in effect because roughly two-thirds of the creatures were clambering over each other to die by his blows. Were it not for the might and prowess of the Phealtian champion, the ship surely would have been overrun.
Joe drew a passable breath and launched himself toward the next bleeding victim he saw.
Time stretched into some unknown measure. Joe jumped across the deck until his talisman ran out of juice, healing anyone he could reach. Each time he was too late, he clenched his jaw tighter and pushed himself that much harder. Hah’roo spun about giving him cover time and again, while Azbekt drew the hordes of sea raiders onto his axe.
There were only a few marauders left when the greater mana charm gave out. [Mystic] helped but Joe was starting to feel his mana drop faster than he could regenerate it. He worried he would not have enough to save everyone. He ignored the drain and kept pushing himself as hard as he could to get to every downed person on the deck.
He was coughing up blood when the sound of fighting began to fade. He didn’t let the lull stop him. His job was far from over. He owed it to the new life he had been given in this world. He owed it to the doctors of Earth, who had done all they could for him. He would not stop. Spitting out the ruby wet globs, he moved on, finding Kyllean holding his chest barely breathing.
You have restored 37.5% of Kyllean’s lost health. His current health is at 41.4%.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Joe gasped, as he looked for the next red aura. He stood up but the world spun and he crashed back down onto the deck. The impact on his broken ribs sent screaming spikes of agony through his chest. Panting, Joe tried to get up but his body would not respond. A pair of thin arms helped him sit up.
“Shhh, son,” Zelphiel crooned. “You must spend some of your healing on yourself. You can do no good if you pass out. Look. They are bringing the wounded to you. Please heal yourself.”
Joe saw it was true. The black spots were everywhere in his vision but he could see Parla was carrying a sailor to where Joe was lying. Gasping for air Joe spent a [Healing Touch] on himself.
You have restored 28.1% of your lost health. Your current health is at 53.3%. You have severe underlying structural damage preventing any further healing at this time.
His head stopped swimming from the lack of air but he was starting to feel the effects of low mana. Thankfully, even though there were wounded people all across the ship, Joe had been jumping from person to person, touching each of them with his magic. Few were still in danger of bleeding out. Those that were, were being carried to where Joe was being held up by the old elf or to where the [Heart Fire] still burned at the front of the main deck. After a few more heals Joe was starting to feel dizzy. Hah’roo came by, but she too was out of mana, leaving her unable to knot him a new charm.
As he knitted the skin closed on a wounded passenger, he listened to the sailors argue about throwing the bodies of the gartrolls overboard. Some claimed that the creatures would heal the moment they hit the water, while others worried the trolls would regenerate on the decks and the fight would start again.
He never made it to the end of the argument. The moment he used the very last of his mana, a storm of status conditions beat him into unconsciousness.