Don't Rock the Boat

 Sylen cringed as he watched Uwe use the wrong end of the crowbar– despite the demonstration– and awkwardly hack at the boot for far longer than it should have taken to pry the thing off. After a solid amount of panic accompanied by a sharp yelp, Uwe finally pried the first leg free– then switched to the other one.

 “I– h– here, let me just– let me get that,” Sylen fumbled, and swept forward to intervene. He wasn’t sure he could handle another ten minutes watching that again. “I’ll do it for you.”

 Before Uwe could make any effort to deny the offer, Sylen quickly nicked the crowbar from Uwe’s hands and pressed the right side down into the boot, adjusting the tool to sit in its ideal position for the task.

 He hesitated, praying for a moment he wouldn’t injure the panicked mage, and then jerked forward, shoving his weight into the crowbar; the stone cracked from the top to the ankle, a thick scar in the rock to show for it.

 “Thank Fortune,” Sylen mumbled under his breath; it only took another minute or two for him to wrench the rest of the rock off of the mage.

 He let out a tired sigh, wiped his brow with the back of his forearm; he motioned to put the crowbar away before deciding it might actually be better to keep it. His gaze searched around the room for something more.

 He wandered away for a moment, then back to Uwe, an oar to the canoe in hand. “Here.” He held it out for the mage to take. “In case you– well, need to defend yourself, I guess.” Sylen could not possibly imagine Uwe wielding it successfully, or even hitting anyone, for that matter. “I say we just get out of here– we’d need reinforcements to tackle these guys, maybe get an Order mage with similar transmutation skills to counter the shoe-destroyer upstairs.” He cleared his throat. “I’m assuming you don’t have transmutation yourself? I wasn’t actually briefed on your abilities in much detail.”