Baal Sar, the blind, freakish satyr, leaned heavily on his staff. The battle was over. The Wrathgill had all been slain or retreated. Save for a few that the putrid Necromancer had animated. And those abomination stoods slack jawed around the deck. There had been some casualities on the Arbalest's side. Many of the soldiers that had been press ganged into the crew had been killed or drug over the side of the boat. The large orc who had stopped the shaman from raining lightning down on them had disappeared over the side. It had been sometime since he went over and there was still no sign of him.
The goatheaded thing, limped around,inspecting the wounded. He used what healing he still had built up, but was loathe to take anymore life to fuel powers. A thousand curses on Nergal! Still those soldiers who were too badly wounded to heal, he could still touch them with the Will of Vanth and give them a peaceful release from the world. And so he did, hobbling about the dead, sending those too wounded to survive painlessly into the afterlife, at least until someone stopped him.